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el amor se ha cantado mil maneras
en sus brazos estaba el placer inmóvil
y con el pájaro del tarareo
la luz retirada
de largo hace, en el claro de luna joven
el elevar, como el viento sopló
en la tierra silenciosa
buena mujer
un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
era una diosa ere el mármol me encontró
ahora que me he refrescado a usted
al lado de un campo afectado
sueño, hermano gris de la muerte

 



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