I
The first wuthering
coils me like a newborn
behind the windowpane
II
And when the gale arrived to the hall
Our house filled up in sand
...And i though of my girl, far and angry
¿What shall my girl do, what shall she do, if the gale arrives?
III
Be! Be at once!
Curdle of water and thunderbolts!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem