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son poem

el sol está para arriba
vea, de esta falsificación de él
disparando para arriba, cayendo abajo
burly, humilde-abeja el dormitar
un destello del oro en gloom y gris
al revés, dé vuelta al revés
cuando la noche mandila a lo largo de las calles de la ciudad
hay aumentos para todas nuestras pérdidas
vi que el dios usted la duda?
sobre-habi'a preparado el acontecimiento
la oscuridad roba las formas de todas las reinas
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda

 



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