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life poetry

quizás no es ninguna materia que usted murió
una palabra del vuelo de aquí y allí
el pequeño lamentable, usado, caras el reír
sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
brilla la edad pasada, el siguiente con esperanza se ve
quién es el corredor en los cielos
caído tan
las sombras de las naves
amo mi hora del viento y de la luz
espléndido y terrible su amor
cuando usted viene esta noche
para mí era concejal gaunt, grave

 



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