It is not by the miles or the seas
that build walls between us.
When I think of your place
and the looks of the guests
who sit and drink on your table,
I mock and scorn my town.
But I have an intense feeling
that we're essentially the same,
even though you're too far
and your spoons are gold.
I want to seduce you with words
that I can afford, if nothing else.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
Fine Flow, chica. care, Sus ''Night calls to the sandhills and gathers them under her.'