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faccialo rotare giů dal prato
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
non prego per pace
sono andati i tre, quelle sorelle rare
la notte č scura ed i venti di inverno
moonlight profondo e tenero
i drowses pallidi di giorno sull'occidentale bagnano
glooms delle viv-quercie
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
indietro, giri indietro
come le aquile sul high alto
dato che, se faceste una pausa oggi il mio lato
conosce un rilascio poco costoso

 



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