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friend poetry

hago mi cubierta, pero nadie sabe
vi la primera pera
el más triste del ańo
sueńo dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
déjeme moverse lentamente a través de la calle
rosas y oro
esté en mí como los humores eternos
sé lo que usted va a decir
no permanezca no más
pharaoh, rey de la tierra de Egipto
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
una pluma del acero
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
cuando el velo de los ojos se levanta

 



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