last thing has been really excited. There
I leave. Grande Miguel, great.
MY SON MIGUEL HERNÁNDEZ.
You have refused to close his eyes, killed me,
open to the sky as two swallows: color
crowned in June, and is dew
morning away to certain regions.
Today, a day underground, dark, underground
as rainy, deserted,
with moisture from my body sunless future underground
as I Having A buried.
Since you are dead do not encourage morning fire
snatched from your eyes solar, precipitated
October against our windows,
gave way to autumn and the sea was dark.
devoured you the sun, single rival deep shade and the remote
launched on you;
light pushes you down taking you to the bottom,
tragándote, and it is as if you were born.
Ten months into the light, rounding the sky, sun
dead, dark, buried, eclipsed. Bypassing
withered on your hair, your flesh was evening
at dawn on one side.
The bird asks for you, body to the east, rising at dawn
meat and accurate joy;
kid who just learned to laugh, so long, that only certain flowers
die with your smile.
Gone, gone, gone like the swallows,
summer bird that elusive live at the foot of the ice:
swallow open to some fine pen, scissors
enemy sinks in flight. Flor
was not able to harden teeth
reaching the slightest sign of the ferocity. Life as a sheet
lip emerging
sheet that slides when ringing begins.
Sea councils will have won nothing ...
I come from a cute sun give a stab,
to bury a piece of bread into oblivion,
to cast eyes on a handful of nothing.
Green, red, dark green, blue and gold;
the latent colors of life, orchards,
the center of the flowers at your feet for, sad
of dark black, stiff white bass.
Women cornered: look how it is day.
(Ay, without setting eyes forever at the dawn!)
But in your belly, but in your eyes, my wife, continues to fall
desolate night.
0 comments:
Post a Comment