anniversary poems

anniversary poems

The day of the desventurados, the pale day lurks love poems
with a heartbreaking cold smell with their forces in grey
without bells, dripping dawn everywhere:
It is a shipwreck in a vacuum with an around crying.

Because she was on so many sites the shade wet, quiet,
of so many brooding in vain, to many terrestrial landscapes
where should occupy until sanctioned by the roots,
anniversary poems of such acute form is defending.

I cry in the middle of the invaded, between confused,
between the flavor of growing, putting the ear anniversary
in the pure movement, increase,
giving way to what above, aimlessly
What emerges dressed in chains and carnations,
I dream with my moral vestiges.

There is nothing of precipitate happy or proud way,
everything appears to becoming evident poverty
the light of the Earth out of his eyelids
not as the chime, but rather as the tears:
the fabric of the day, his weak canvas poems
serves for an ill headband, it serves to make signs
in a farewell, behind the absence:
It is the color that only wants to replace,
cover, swallow, overcome, making distances.

I'm alone among Woody matters,
love poems the rain falls on me, and I think,
I looks with their madness, lonely dead worldwide
rejected by falling, and shapeless stubborn.