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poem for pastors

o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
eu vim no deserto porque minha alma Ă© athirst
talvez
as canções velhas
vocĂŞ Ă© meu companheiro
quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
veja, eles retornam
sob a lua da colheita
tem um espaço livre, loveliness vento-protegido
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
esplĂŞndido e terrĂ­vel seu amor
perguntam-me onde eu estive

 



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