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retirement poem

llevo a cabo su corazón
quién nombrará el viento
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
soy cansado de ser amargo y cansado de ser sabio
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
pienso a menudo en la ciudad hermosa
ponemos
pájaros contra el viento de abril
había tres en el prado al lado del arroyo
dígame menos o dígame más
cuando era un muchacho en la universidad
los cielos que eran ashen y sobrio
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
mejore que el granito

 



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