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angel poem

fuera del profundo y de la obscuridad
debajo de la luna de la cosecha
hasta su ventana del compartimiento
los cielos que eran ashen y sobrio
suavemente ahora la luz del dĂ­a
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
de nuestros lugares ocultados
ella estallĂł el vino feroz
sea paciente, vida, cuando el amor está en la puerta
la nieve susurra sobre mĂ­
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido

 



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