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mother poem

a qué una mujer la comparará querida
trenzado y tejido
nobleza de la muerte otra vez
le estoy cantando
todo mi amor para mi dulce
amo mi hora del viento y de la luz
envuelva la tierra en tiempo nublado
la luz retirada
repentinamente, fuera de maneras oscuras y frondosas
tengo gusto de ella
soy cansado de ser amargo y cansado de ser sabio
o justo y stately criada, que ojos
debajo de la hoja oscura del laurel
no del mundo ancho del conjunto

 



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