The Seasons (In Spanish) Poem by Charles Andres Alberto
The Seasons (In Spanish)
No hay montanas en el aire,
nada encima del viento;
Por lo que ves es fe pura,
y lo que oigas, un himno.
El viento que soplaba como fumo de cigarillo,
las campanas que sonan y cantan,
Le ahogan a El que sienta y respira,
y El que toma el tomillo.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
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4/23/2024 6:03:36 AM # 1.0.0.1119
