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dark poetry

la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
il padrone dei destini umani sono io
ascolti il mare suonante
limps con la fermata del passo doloroso
sonno dolce nelle vostre tombe humble
non ci è moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
le preghiere bianche piccole
faccialo rotare giù dal prato
lasci il unsaid bello di parole
sono nell'amore con gli alti posti far-seeing
quell'anno
tutti dentro e tutti senza di me
siete bei e sbiaditi

 



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