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christian poetry

hago mi cubierta, pero nadie sabe
cuando la noche mandila a lo largo de las calles de la ciudad
en la obscuridad y la paz de mi cama final
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
sé no dónde
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
a lo largo de los bancos
el sol caminĂł abajo de su trono de oro
hay tres maneras de las cuales los hombres toman
dije, yo he cerrado mi corazĂłn

 



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