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haiku poem

la nieve susurra sobre mí
o justo y stately criada, que ojos
sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocío
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
le detesté
el misterio más oscuro, más extraño
el pequeño lamentable, usado, caras el reír
las verdades tremendas éstos sean
expresemos nuestras pasiones más bajas
cuando un hecho se hace para la libertad
las viejas canciones
estoy viejo y oculto
vi que el dios usted la duda?

 



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