clay dye

poem about the River Plate and its magical nights

in his walk on wet tiles has splashed the moon, silver white silver white flashes of lightning thundering their swift boats so full of river barges filled and crossing, proclaiming this the poet from his delusions hands, cotton in the sky, silver strokes crying happen before dawn on them will spin clay dye waters rocking on the pier, and paved moon, night rivera, brown and shiny metal of your sand, small waves reflected in your sincere river on the waterfront watching you , on the banks of the East in the emerging reserve Lola Mora wears moon strength in your chipping river inhabited by mermaids odes swirling their chains break free.Asleep watching the moon is this going to visit her one night the seas are down, the stars the show, the stars the relevance of his nocturnal visit, accompanied by stars! (Alfredo Estevez)