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sex poem

tristes son que saben no amor
en pasillos del sueño usted vagó cerca
un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengüeta
travails de la tierra
vi los archangels en mi manzana-a'rbol ayer por la noche
en la tierra silenciosa
pero alas, sueños justos
paredes y enorme altos
pienso a menudo en la ciudad hermosa
debajo de un árbol de la castaña que se separa
hace mil años silenciosos
un pequeño melocotón en la huerta creció
para venir tan pronto a esto imaginaba obscuridad
dije

 



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