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spanish poem

minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
eu sobre-tinha preparado o evento
eu estive pelo casement aberto
o merriment infinito, foolish das estrelas
uma milha atrás
algum queixou-se ao mestre
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina
última meia-noite
eu não queimo nenhum incense
mundo que muda sob minha mão
tudo dentro e tudo sem mim
bonito
pôde tê-lo sabido na mola mais adiantada

 



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