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birthday poetry

poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
sotto il timone del guerriero
disprezzo i miei amici più di voi
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente è stata mescolata
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
un uccello ha cantato
siete bei e sbiaditi
all'alba, ha detto
vivo dalla riva del fiume
ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
vedrò stasera una stella
un cielo che non ha conosciuto mai il sole, la luna o le stelle
l'aria è piena l'alba del e la molla

 



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