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gothic poetry

no puedo ahora decirle
dĂ­game no
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano
una vez este césped suave
hay aumentos para todas nuestras pérdidas
una niebla conducĂ­a abajo
es verdad que usted dice que los dioses son más uso a usted que hadas
cuando era un muchacho en la universidad
vi que el dios usted la duda?
por las mañanas nube-grises
por lo tanto no puedo
cuando los mar-vientos perforaron nuestras soledades

 



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