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writing poetry

hanno gettato una pietra, voi hanno gettato una pietra
siete il mio compagno
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
qui cade nessuna luce
alti pareti ed enorme
quando libertŕ dalla sua altezza della montagna
l'alba era verde mela
e pane del breaketh non di piů
ha incurvato l'inondazione
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
forse
conosco non dove
come esso
la gradisco

 



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