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teen love poem

ruédeme abajo por el prado
escuche el mar del sonido
el cuerpo puede confinar
nobleza de la muerte otra vez
haga a muchachos y las muchachas todavĂ­a van
escrito en una noche del vuelo
su cara es justa y lisa y fina
ésta es la canción de la juventud
tristes son que saben no amor
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
dentro de mi mano sostengo
cuando el viento trabaja contra nosotros en la obscuridad
todos se callan a lo largo del potomac

 



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