Por la tumba del cortijo (Verso XXVIII) Poem by Jose Marti
Por la tumba del cortijo (Verso XXVIII)
Por la tumba del cortijo
Donde está el padre enterrado,
Pasa el hijo, de soldado
Del invasor: pasa el hijo.
El padre, un bravo en la guerra,
Envuelto en su pabellón
Alzase: y de un bofetón
Lo tiende, muerto, por tierra.
El rayo reluce: zumba
El viento por el cortijo:
El padre recoge al hijo,
Y se lo lleva a la tumba.
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4/26/2024 4:52:44 AM # 1.0.0.1119
