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short funny poem

la hija, arte del thou viene morir
renueve la visión del placer
las viejas canciones
vi con los ojos abiertos
oí el viento todo el dia
dondeyo encuéntrele
cómo es salvaje, cómo bruja-como extraño que la vida debe ser
déjeme moverse lentamente a través de la calle
sueño dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
cuando, lleno de amor caliente e impaciente
si el asesino rojo piensa él mata
el cuerpo puede confinar

 



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