"chimes of freedom"

These are the trees
and the furniture of the promenade.
Rolling e rolling,
their cheerleader masses of green feuiles.
Shadow on the walk.
It did not a nod of comprehend,
but stay on the ground the eyes
and don´t know that I´m here, the window.
More one light
of the many in the night.
It curves de corner
and descends.
The back of him is black
as he fits a hat and long coat.
It goes.
It didn´t see a one to him,
and perhaps it goes till the river.
Every wardrobe of troubles goes with him.
It ends.
The trees are biding.
[blinding]
[binding)

Les butterflies

Three companions, white.
In the green buttered field,
sunny, and tenderly shadowed.
Eys flies in come and go,
and blue flowers, tiny, print the eyes
with dots. The grails-of-milk, ashore,
seem a covenant os mothers.

The three companions, white.
Rejoice with the flowers little blue in the ground,
redrosed in the peachtree.

The little covenant of mothers,
they milk a life
that´s not the new.

The new is joy of play,
and sun.

Little covenant of mothers:
they knew a breast
of follies

Butterflies: they tell
their secrets, and laugh,
and the black brother come,
so little, and is,
poor boy,
their silly

Accalm.
They´re tired.
One, after a while,
goes to the mothers,
just to disturb.

They´re together, again.

and, perhaps,
it will be this way,
till the night.

The little brother, so black,
poor boy, now is playing, too.
"Be piety!", he says
"We are.", they laugh.

And they´re happy.

"Few the grasses go old..."

Few the grasses go old.
Few are the new.
The eyes of an orchid look the both
with same interest it looks
to itself.


without you
it has anymore

BRETHEREN

Each peach in the yard,
a-bending

yellowed and greened
fruitful
and parfumed

THE DAYS STARTED WITH STARS

The closing of the sun was desappearance.
The days started with stars.