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romantic poetry

de la canción y del sueño para ido siempre
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
ido antes de nosotros
hace de largo la luz del sol del verano brillar
mi alma va revestida en cosas magníficas
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
mire hacia fuera sobre las estrellas, mi amor
sueño dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
era muchas y mucho hace un año
qué nosotros ahora hará
no del mundo ancho del conjunto

 



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