ella se siente tan llena de flores,
que se le escapa algo de energía por entre las piernas.
entre esas piernas eternas.
entre esas piernas eternas
quedarán grabados paraísos inimaginables.
y crecerán bosques sin raíces en sus pies.
ahora ya sabe, era que iba a viajar.
Where art thou, Muse, that thou forge’st so long
ResponderEliminarTo speak of that which gives thee all might?
Spend’st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?
Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem
In gente numerbs time so idly spent:
Sing to the ear that doth thy esteem
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
Rise, resty Muse, my love’s sweet face survey,
If Time’s spoils despised every where.
Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life;
So thou prevent’st his scythe and crooked knife.
W.S.