Topic: Poetry
Conmigo, la luna creciente desespera.
Esta noche estamos representando
las mujeres solitarias
en vestidos azules.
La luna esta llorando;
su lagrimas son estrellas
que yo capturo en mi delantal.
Alli ellas queman los guardias
de mi corazon hasta que yo estoy
tan hueca como la luna creciente.
Translation:
The Crescent Moon
With me, the crescent moon despairs.
This night we are playing
lonely women
in blue dresses.
The moon is crying;
her tears are stars
that I capture in my apron.
There they burn away the guardians
of my heart until I am
as hollow as the crescent moon.
Posted by Anna Belle
at 2:23 PM EST
Updated: Thursday, 31 March 2005 7:50 AM EST