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christmas poems

se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
con su pelo flaying violentamente
en y de sí mismo
éste es el arsenal
el viejo oeste, el viejo tiempo
materia de la luna
el amanecer era verde
solitario y solitario
fuera del mar chispeante
lo vi una vez antes
quién es el corredor en los cielos
mire hacia fuera sobre las estrellas, mi amor
había tres en el prado al lado del arroyo
contra la llama verde del espino-a'rbol

 



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