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baby poem

solitario y solitario
levantado de los muertos
tan perdido
nuestros momentos agradables vuelan
cuando un hecho se hace para la libertad
los pequeños rezos blancos
en su vuelo
caras hermosas, tragical
lo vi una vez antes
los dĂ­as melancĂłlicos han venido
cómo es salvaje, cómo bruja-como extraño que la vida debe ser
las naves están mintiendo en la bahía
oĂ­ el viento todo el dia

 



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