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retirement poem

espléndido y terrible su amor
quizás no es ninguna materia que usted murió
una tormenta está montando en la marea
estoy en amor con los altos lugares far-seeing
usted es hermoso y descolorado
entre el humo y la niebla de una tarde de diciembre
la nieve susurra sobre mí
amo mi hora del viento y de la luz
hace usted no oír
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?
no esté enojado con mí
hay tres maneras de las cuales los hombres toman
había un strangeness en sus labios

 



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