He makes a picture of his love (1922)
When I rose
The mist hung from the trees like a cobweb.
Being lonely for you
I made a fire a little way from my fallen log.
And sat looking at you, living you, singing you,
Till the mist tore the mist away
And the last gray-red twigs crackled into silence.
When I rose
The mist hung from the trees like a cobweb.
Being lonely for you
I made a fire a little way from my fallen log.
And sat looking at you, living you, singing you,
Till the mist tore the mist away
And the last gray-red twigs crackled into silence.
qué poesía más gringa y campestre, por dios, quién lo diría!!!
ResponderBorrarsi una se pone a pensar que este mismo hombre (joven entonces) luego no pudo evitar ser politico, creó y mantuvo el ELA, entonces el poema se vuelve uno triste y él aun más.
ResponderBorrarlokjbioubn
ResponderBorrar