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kid poem

el olor del se levantó tan falso, las espinas tan verdades
contra la llama verde del espino-a'rbol
vi las nubes entre las colinas
una tormenta está montando en la marea
no ruego para la paz
arrojé mi alma al aire como un vuelo del halcón
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
era el otoño del año
la luz retirada
todavía recuerdo sin duda alguna
camino abajo de las trayectorias del jardín
hombre frío severo
estoy parado en el tiempo gris frío

 



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