English | Spanish | French | German | Portuguese| Italian | Romanian

sad love poem

ella oyó a niños el jugar en el sol
el prado se arrastraba
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
para estos brazos blancos sobre mi cuello
dos filas de coles
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
la fragancia vino

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

  • Signs of the Slowdown? - New York Times Blogs
  • Hasan Hafiz's birthday today - The New Nation
  • MUSHROOM SEASON: HUNTS, FESTIVALS AND DINNERS - Welland Tribune
  • Sell me a story - Financial Times
  • Local News (Nipawin Journal)
  • RED STEAGALL COWBOY GATHERING AND WESTERN SWING FESTIVAL - WFAA
  • Milton, who was blind, dictated the whole of Paradise Lost to a scribe - BBC News
  • LACMA Opens its Doors to Experimental Group, Machine Project, for ... - Art Daily
  • Eminem's Mom Tells Her Side Of The Story In New Memoir - MTV
  • Sixers storm over Thunder, 110-85 - The Queensberry Rules
  • Rave reviews for Boyle's Mumbai slum film - AFP
  • Morrison's call to conscience (Toronto Star)
  • Literature is not a hobby — Iftikhar Arif - DAWN Group
  • Collaboration a spiritual coming together of artists (The Post and Courier)
  • Sunday, October 26, 2008 (Fort Worth Weekly)
 

Should you Refinance?

Get your Online Degrees today!

December 2007 Mortgage News

Poetry | Home | Contact Us | Educational Resources | Vote For This Poem | Visitor Favorites

Summer School Help Beginner Math Physics Primer Chemistry Primer Intro Psychology English Primer
Intro Grammar Beginner Writing American History American Civil War Intro Biology Composition Help


Check out El-Grande Web Directory today!


www.endlesspoetry.com ©Copyright 2004 - 2007 Michael VanDeMar All Rights Reserved