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el aire es como una mariposa
pájaros contra el viento de abril
cĂłmo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
dice de buenas viejas épocas
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
en la obscuridad y la paz de mi cama final
porqué entonces, la necesidad nosotros ve?
como águilas en colmo ascendente
melancolĂ­a, azul era
sombras coas alas que barren cerca
amo mi hora del viento y de la luz
tiene usted el caminar visto a través de la aldea

 



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