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grandmother poem

todos dentro y todos sin mí
fui arriba y abajo de las calles
era un oysterman joven alto
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?
disparando para arriba, cayendo abajo
todos tragan los ańos
sobre los tejados compita con las sombras de nubes
la oscuridad
el amo de destinos humanos es yo
entre el humo y la niebla de una tarde de diciembre
deje una subsistencia de la alegría usted
el aire es lleno de amanecer y de resorte

 



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