The dream had been a spasm
Created in your naked sleep
It had enlightened the mind with amazement
Drew on the raw linen
The face of desire
All I envy
For I am loneliness in the middle of the wilderness
Lips moving in love rhymes
They left in the night at the end of their night
Shaking hands entwined in your modesty.
Jorge d'Alte
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário