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■ Tierra baldía
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2010-06-17 | [Este texto, tienes que leerlo en english] | Inscrito en la biblioteca por Yigru Zeltil
Time flies by like a great whale
And I find my hand grows stale at the throttle Of my many faceted and fake appearance Who bucks and spouts by detour under the sheets Hollow portals of solid appearance Movies are poems, a holy bible, the great mother to us People go by in the fragrant day Accelerate softly my blood But blood is still blood and tall as a mountain blood Behind me green rubber grows, feet walk In wet water, and dusty heads grow wide Padré, Father, or fat old man, as you will, I am afraid to succeed, afraid to fail, Tell me now, again, who I am
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