America, from a grain

        of maize you grew

        to

        h spacious lands

        the o foam.

        A grain of maize was yeography.

        From the grain

        a green lance rose,

        h gold,

        to grace ts

        of Peru s yelloassels.

        But, poet, let

        ory rest in its shroud;

        praise h your lyre

        ts granaries:

        sing to t.

        First, a fine beard

        fluttered in the field

        above teeeth

        of the young ear.

        ted

        and fruitfulness burst its veils

        of pale papyrus

        t grains of laughter

        migh.

        to tone,

        in your journey,

        you returned.

        Not to terrible stone,

        the bloody

        triangle of Mexi death,

        but to tone,

        sacred

        stone of your kits.

        tter,

        strengtritious

        eal pulp,

        you ted

        by the wondrous hands

        of dark-skinned women.

        herever you fall, maize,

        he

        splendid pot of partridge, or among

        try beans, you light up

        t

        your virginal flavor.

        Oo bite into

        teaming ear beside the sea

        of distant song and deepest z.

        to boil you

        as your aroma

        spreads through

        blue sierras.

        But is there

        no end

        to your treasure?

        In chalky, barren lands

        bordered

        by the sea, along

        t,

        at times

        only your radiance

        reacy

        table of the miner.

        Yht, your eal, your hope

        pervades Americas solitudes,

        and to hunger

        your lances

        are enemy legions.

        ithin your husks,

        like gentle kernels,

        our sober provincial

        cs ured,

        until life began

        to she ear.
请记住本书首发域名：966xs.com。966小说手机版阅读网址：wap.966xs.com