The dog and I do not answer my question
.
jumping, running through the fields and asked me not to mention
and his eyes are wet two requests, two flames
liquid that question and I do not answer
not answer because I do not know, do not I can say anything. In open
go
man and dog.
Bright leaves as if someone had kissed
one by one,
arise from the ground to locate all the oranges
small planetary
round on trees as night, and green, and
us, man and dog, go
to sniff the world, to shake clover,
in the Chilean countryside, between the clear
fingers of September.
The dog stops,
chasing bees, water jumps
anxious,
hear distant barking,
piss on a rock
and brings me the tip of his nose,
to me as a gift.
E 'its freshness affectionate communication
of his affection, and
asked me right there with her two eyes, because it is
day, because it will be the night, because the spring
not brought in his basket
nothing
for stray dogs, except
useless flowers,
flowers, flowers, and flowers.
And so the dog
asked me and I do not answer.
Come on man and dog together in the morning
green
dall'incitante
empty loneliness in which only we exist, this unity between
dog with dew and the poet of the woods,
because there is no hiding the bird, it
' secret of the flower, but only
trills and fragrances for the two companions: a
world dampened by distillation of the night,
a gallery and then a large green lawn, a gust of wind
orange,
the whisper of the roots,
life that goes on and the old friendship, the happiness of being
dog and d '
man be turned into any animal that walks by moving
six legs and a tail with dew.
http://animaliepoesie.blogspot.com/2009/09/ode-al-cane.html
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