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esté en mí como los humores eternos
cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
en todas las cosas no habladas de
soy cansado de ser amargo y cansado de ser sabio
estoy muriendo
se hace el día
soplador de vidrio del tiempo
hermano, soy fuego
cuando volví en la puesta del sol
el amo de destinos humanos es yo
él incluso tendría su broma
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
el rodillo triste del tambor amortiguado tiene golpe

 



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