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haiku poem

cuando miraba en sus ojos
cuando el velo de los ojos se levanta
qué nosotros ahora hará
por las mañanas nube-grises
melancolía, azul era
todos tragan los años
reservado, con reverance, en temor
tristemente hablando
haga a muchachos y las muchachas todavía van
éste es el arsenal
tráigame la canción suave
debajo del timón del guerrero
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
dulce y fuerte


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