music flowing through my fingertips restless, sensitive, for my distant echoes, stained with bitterness, melody with deep, clear, slow as a flowing liquid. Ah, the wholesome rock, old, yes, and severe as a song that sings those who have died, exhausted, to they can rest, a song like water falling on my head and my limbs like a dream that due to a flush shine.
work some magic Melody: A spell of relief, and quiet breath, Quiet shellNo, sinking, between colors that are melting, deep into the underwater
quiet sea and floats forever in a pond
greened light of the moon light when reflected.
... ...
But will the silence vast and starry deep and now it seems that tonight is going to end the world in a huge death of black ice.
Poems of Elizabeth Bishop intertwined and Luis Urbina.