Lágrima
se va durmiendo la tarde, sino las madrugadas llaman.
en el nido ardiente del pecho, bajo el llanto de verano
el corazón no cesa de latir, se sufrir y quebrarse.
es el aroma de mis colonias en el tiempo
mientras el cielo aguarda por mis bellos cantos a la luna.
De tristeza toca la puerta.
al acecho en la penumbra, y la soledad ,allí siempre presente, me acompaña
el ángel funerario de la pena, el cual habita en mi, incrédulo de lo que yo he de sentir.
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