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footprint poem

amé a mujer
éstos sean
todavía recuerdo sin duda alguna
antes del santo de bronce solemne
un pájaro cantó
amigo, que sonrisa ha venido ser
la oscuridad roba las formas de todas las reinas
cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
debajo de un árbol de la castaña que se separa
de'bil-se va volando la canción
como baja el igualar
las canciones antiguas
es usted vivo?

 



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