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short poem

oscilado en la horquilla del profundo
serene de la tarde y brillante verdes
qué yo le deben
cuando un hecho se hace para la libertad
no dé vuelta a su cabeza
para entonces fuera
era el otoño del año
babylon -- donde voy a soñar
los días melancólicos han venido
la lluvia encima, y el aire brillante
debajo de la hoja oscura del laurel
desdeño a mis amigos más que usted
lo van
burly, humilde-abeja el dormitar

 



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