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poetry poem

ámeme en el último, o si usted no
estos corazones fueron tejidos de alegrías y de cuidados humanos
mi alma va revestida en cosas magníficas
gaily a través de los campos bailamos
levantado de los muertos
con alegría y maravilla
quién es el corredor en los cielos
aunque soy poco como todas las pequeñas cosas
aquí cae ninguna luz
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
en su vuelo
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
antes del santo de bronce solemne

 



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