martes, 25 de diciembre de 2012

Sweet terroir. Poem.

Sweet terroir

Sweet terroir
that is so tough random
your nights are cold
and the days without end.

Your belly injured
leaves a dark wine
that maketh glad the walk.

By the plain infinite
walks a strange animal
four legs and two humps
much hunger without quench.

By its thirst would drink
a wineskin without breathing
by his dream would sleep
a whole year without stopping.

To take shelter
 in any corner
ends under a great shrub
Lying in the grass
the birds will nest
and he snuggled up to the flying.

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