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autumn poetry

en la medianoche
qué nosotros ahora hará
usted piensa, mi muchacho, cuando pongo mis brazos alrededor de usted
dígame menos o dígame más
todos se callan a lo largo del potomac
he visto las estrellas más orgullosas
si era muy seguro
el más triste del año
no me quemo ningún incienso
no éramos muchos
encima de los prados ricos con maíz
paredes y enorme altos
las montañas son gente silenciosa
arqueó la inundación

 



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