18 de enero de 2012


I was wrong.
There’s everything to fear:
the immensity of green fields,
the echoes of books,
a woman, all the women,
a gray chapel or reading glasses.

Living in panic is a way of being alive.
It’s the frequency that a broken orange can hear,
the scary but soothing voice of retirement. 

3 comentarios:

Alexandru Ichim dijo...

De los poemas más lindos que leí.

FloRa dijo...

WOW! me imaginé la naranja con orejas...
frutal poems..jeje

Lucas dijo...

thanx, bro's