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poetry poem

dal ponticello rude
ancora il suo gray oscilla la torretta sopra il mare
non prego per pace
ci č una cittŕ, builded da nessuna mano
lascilo essere triste
non giri la vostra testa
esistere dello swan
in un vecchio alloggiamento si č illuminato morbidamente
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
una penna di acciaio
chi ama la pioggia
le preghiere bianche piccole
sonno dolce nelle vostre tombe humble

 



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