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short love poem

vea que me doy usted
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
esos ojos negros i elogiado una vez tan
tengo gusto de ella
dondeyo encuéntrele
tenemos ninguna vergüenza?
encima de los prados ricos con maíz
cuando los mar-vientos perforaron nuestras soledades
con rojo de la sangre de los labios y el corazón de la piedra
estaba parado
el olor del se levantó tan falso, las espinas tan verdades
éstos sean

 



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