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child poem

sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano
para poder ver cada lado de cada pregunta
mi dolor, cuando ella está aquí con mí
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
ayer por la noche la Luna Llena puso un paño del blanco
soy una mujer
en todas las cosas no habladas de
disparando para arriba, cayendo abajo
de'bil-se va volando la canción
ochenta años han pasado, y más
mundo que cambia bajo mi mano

 



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