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la mia anima va placcata nelle cose gorgeous
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
sono il vento che esita
perchč allora, il mosto noi vede?
non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
lucida l'ultima etŕ, il seguente con speranza č visto
la gradisco
mi domando dove vivete
prima del san bronze solenne
che cosa era esso i motori detti
forse
babylon -- dove vado sognare

 



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  • Noted Poet, writer Khatir Ghaznavi dies, burial today - Associated Press of Pakistan
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  • Obituary: William Brown - Guardian Unlimited
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