poem

green that I want green green wind to you green branches. the boat on the sea and the horse in montana. with the shade in the waist, she sounds in its railing, green meat, green hair, with eyes of fria green silver that I want to you green.

under the gypsy moon, the things estan it watching and it cannot mirarlas. green that I want green great frost stars to you come with the shade fish that lays the way of the dawn. the fig tree rubs its wind with the sandpaper of its branches, and the mount, cat garduno, makes bristle its bitter pitas.

but, who vendra and by where she follows in its railing, green meat, green hair, sounding in the bitter sea compadre, I want to change my horse by its house, my mount by its mirror, my knife by its blanket compadre, I come bleeding, from the goat ports.

if I could mocitir this treatment closed myself but I no longer am I, neither my house is or my marries

compadre, I want to die decently in my steel bed, if it can be, with savannahs of holando. you do not see the wound, that I have from the chest to the throat?

three hundred brown roses take your white pechera. your blood rezuma and smells around your strip but I no longer am I neither my house is or my marries

let me raise at least until the high railings, handrails of the moon by where the water resounds.

they already raise both compadres towards the high railings leaving a blood sign leaving rasto of tears shook in the farolillos tile roofs of tin plate thousand panderos of crystal herian the dawn.

green that I want to you green, green wind, green branches both compadres raised. the long wind left in the mouth a rare taste of hiel, mint and basil.

Compadre where this your bitter nina? whichever times it hoped to you, fresh face, black hair, in this green railing

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