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friendship poem

sueño, hermano gris de la muerte
el elevar, como el viento sopló
ella estalló el vino feroz
tormenta
sé lo que usted va a decir
vi los archangels en mi manzana-a'rbol ayer por la noche
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
oscilado en la horquilla del profundo
fui arriba y abajo de las calles
por la orilla, por el mar
arriba y abajo de él va
como baja el igualar
cuando el velo de los ojos se levanta

 



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