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short poem

era no para ese olor singular
déjeme moverse lentamente a través de la calle
aunque repine del amor, y rozadura de la razĂłn
a través del pecho de dolor de la amplia tierra
un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengĂĽeta
el aire es como una mariposa
en el frunce de la oscuridad y piden
por completo de rasgones
la luna de levantamiento ha ocultado las estrellas
le hizo oyen hablar siempre
lleno esta taza
la tierra guarda cierto ir de la vibraciĂłn
en y encendido
cuando los mar-vientos perforaron nuestras soledades

 



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