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grandmother poem

ese compañero extraño vino en mezclar pies
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas
tristes son que saben no amor
me preguntan donde he estado
quién ama la lluvia
el rodillo triste del tambor amortiguado tiene golpe
ésta es la canción de la juventud
vi con los ojos abiertos
los pasillos de mármol resounding largos
no puedo sentir siempre su greatness
cuando, lleno de amor caliente e impaciente
lo van

 



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