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poem for pastors

en el frunce de la oscuridad y piden
camino abajo de las trayectorias del jardín
el sol caminó abajo de su trono de oro
el aire es lleno de amanecer y de resorte
no éramos muchos
ella puede ser que lo haya sabido en el resorte anterior
cuando volví en la puesta del sol
sueño, hermano gris de la muerte
sombras coas alas que barren cerca
he tenido un miedo en mi vida
qué nosotros ahora hará

 



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