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poem and quote

fiori dei bambini
ci è una città, builded da nessuna mano
la luce ritirata
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
penso spesso alla città bella
all'interno della mia mano tengo
che probabilità spiteful ruba i unawares
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
molto bene, voi liberali
come livellare cade
nobility della morte ancora
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
non appenda corona

 



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