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no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
hago mi cubierta, pero nadie sabe
el sol caminĂł abajo de su trono de oro
hombre frĂ­o severo
hay una hora del resto pacĂ­fico
cuando volvĂ­ en la puesta del sol
venido abajo en el amanecer de las colinas windless
un destello del oro en gloom y gris
soplador de vidrio del tiempo
dios
se hace el dĂ­a
oĂ­ el viento todo el dia

 



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