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il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
non brucio incenso
l'alba era verde mela
musing, fra il tramonto e l'oscuritą
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
per venire cosģ presto a questo ha immaginato l'oscuritą
malinconia, azzurro era
chi č il corridore nei cieli
il merriment infinito e insensato delle stelle
una volta questo tappeto erboso molle
a volte mi domando se č realmente allineare
la nerezza
lascilo muoversi lentamente tramite la via

 



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