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lost love poem

en la esfera
el rodillo triste del tambor amortiguado tiene golpe
los días melancólicos han venido
este tazón de fuente de plata antiguo el míos
y pan del breaketh no más
el aire es como una mariposa
con su pelo flaying violentamente
fuera del mar chispeante
había tres en el prado al lado del arroyo
suavemente ahora la luz del día
nosotros que estaban parados
ciudad que no es una ciudad
él incluso tendría su broma
ella cojea con parar paso doloroso

 



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