jormailin
Poeta recién llegado
¡Ay niña, duerme! El viento aúlla, la luna hiela.
Gypsy Dulcinea, if I was ever to be dreamed of
I’d be an ocean; I’d be a windmill
The wind may chase me.
I sail through bloodstreams.
¡Ay niña, duerme! El viento aúlla, la luna quiebra.
Eden in the month of May
if I was ever to be looked at,
my ribs would be a forest;
these verses would have a cadence.
¡Ay niña, duerme! El viento aúlla, la luna despeña.
As if my lungs were corrupted a gunshot stroke me.
Pollen, bees, beehives,
branches, and blossoms grunt for light
I’ve been released from this carcass.
¡Ay niña sueña, que el sol abraza y el silencio tiembla!
Gypsy Dulcinea, if I was ever to be dreamed of
I’d be an ocean; I’d be a windmill
The wind may chase me.
I sail through bloodstreams.
¡Ay niña, duerme! El viento aúlla, la luna quiebra.
Eden in the month of May
if I was ever to be looked at,
my ribs would be a forest;
these verses would have a cadence.
¡Ay niña, duerme! El viento aúlla, la luna despeña.
As if my lungs were corrupted a gunshot stroke me.
Pollen, bees, beehives,
branches, and blossoms grunt for light
I’ve been released from this carcass.
¡Ay niña sueña, que el sol abraza y el silencio tiembla!
