Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
W. B. Yeats
W. B. Yeats
1 comentario:
vale en esa foto te ves como un poeta melancolico.. espero solo sea la prespectiva que quieres dar y no sea porque en realidad estes asi broo!!! un abrazo y un fuerte beso pa' ti, pa san y pa juan carlos
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