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christmas poems

mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocío
veré una estrella esta noche
para venir tan pronto a esto imaginaba obscuridad
glooms de los vivir-robles
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
resido en la montaña de la tabla
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
el eliminar, luchando vainly
la tierra guarda cierto ir de la vibración
pasado implacable del thou
los días hypocritic
algún se quejó al amo
con la puesta del sol

 



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