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cowboy poetry

sueño, hermano gris de la muerte
no hay multitud, no obstante está mirado y tendido
todavía recuerdo sin duda alguna
los pequeños rezos blancos
estos corazones fueron tejidos de alegrías y de cuidados humanos
sea paciente, vida, cuando el amor está en la puerta
gaily a través de los campos bailamos
sobre los tejados compita con las sombras de nubes
los hice una oferta todo el adiós
uno con usted
felicidad
con la puesta del sol
la lluvia encima, y el aire brillante
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente

 



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