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death poetry

aunque repine del amor, y rozadura de la razón
este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos
de largo hace, en el claro de luna joven
mundo que cambia bajo mi mano
tiene usted el caminar visto a través de la aldea
como él de quién alcohol en el resplandor del mediodía
todo mi amor para mi dulce
hace usted oír
y todavía caminaron encendido
vi con los ojos abiertos
la luz retirada
ella cojea con parar paso doloroso
no dé vuelta a su cabeza

 



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