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Winter

Last Cycle

By Luis Ignacio MarínPublished 5 years ago 1 min read
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1

New Year rain.

Geese fly

since the time of the gods.

What to do

on this cold morning?

Have the day

the same taste of the night.

Drink sake the traveler.

2

Spills the Buddha

slush essences.

I go to the bonfire

and I ask myself:

—Is the end near?

No cold by the fire.

In the middle of the night

crosses the snow.

The smell of the pot

go through the door.

I approach the window.

I guess

the shivering of the hedges.

3

After the sober screen,

dark, the forest.

White deucias

accompany me.

In this hard winter

the moon also bloomed.

Several months of snow,

in the morning the pine trees yawn.

The sun retired long ago,

my heart ages.

nature poetry
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