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poem for pastors

tengo que decir buonas noches
en la obscuridad y la paz de mi cama final
él vino tomarme por la mano
este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos
pájaros contra el viento de abril
ahora que me he refrescado a usted
hay una hora del resto pacífico
los pequeños rezos blancos
con su pelo flaying violentamente
en el frunce de la oscuridad y piden
gloom
no del mundo ancho del conjunto
sea paciente, vida, cuando el amor está en la puerta

 



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