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love poems

cosě perso
la festivitŕ reale č stata fatta
che cosa noi ora farŕ
glooms delle viv-quercie
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
ho detto
sposti la terra in tempo nuvoloso
i loro capelli bei
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente č stata mescolata
circa ha sporto querela al padrone
morbidamente piangendo
quando ero si č rotto a Londra
veda, da questa falsificazione di lui

 



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