The big trees ...
Grouchomaniaco Photo
Poem Nearly 11 out of the sky between two mountain
anchor the half of the moon.
Turning, wandering at night, the digger of eyes.
to see how many stars are smashed in the pond.
makes a cross between my eyebrows in mourning, flee. Fragua
blue metal, quiet nights of fighting,
my heart is turning like a crazy wheel. Niña
come from so far, brought from afar,
sometimes flashes out his eyes under heaven.
Rumbling, storm, cyclone fury,
cross above my heart without stopping.
Wind carries the graves, wrecks, spread your sleepy root.
The big trees across it.
But you, fair girl, asked to smoke, spike.
was that the wind was making with illuminated leaves. Behind the mountains
night, white lily of fire,
there anything I can say! It was made of all things. Anxiety
that sliced \u200b\u200bmy breast into pieces,
is time to take another road, where she does not smile. Tempest
that buried the bells, muddy swirl of storm
why touch her now, why make her sad. Oh
follow the path that leads away from everything, where it is tackling
anguish, death, winter,
with their eyes open in the dew.
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