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family poetry

veré una estrella esta noche
hace usted no oír
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
esté en mí como los humores eternos
tengo que decir buonas noches
cómo es salvaje, cómo bruja-como extraño que la vida debe ser
en pasillos del sueño usted vagó cerca
pasado implacable del thou
quizás
sueño dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
hace de largo la luz del sol del verano brillar

 



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