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sorry poem

quizás no es ninguna materia que usted murió
las sombras ponen a lo largo de broadway
en sus regimentals desiguales
haga a muchachos y las muchachas todavía van
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
sueño dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
apenas ahora
para arropar el pensamiento ardiente
claro de luna profundo y blando
allí por la ventana en la vieja casa
fuera de mí indigno y desconocido
los días endeared a cada MUSE

 



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