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baby poem

un gleam di oro il gloom in e gray
la festività reale è stata fatta
quale desidero rilevare
tristemente parlando
non posso ritenere sempre il suo greatness
i poets dicono a
sonno dolce nelle vostre tombe humble
ci era uno strangeness sui vostri labbri
in vostri bracci era il piacere tranquillo
tutti quei tesori che si trovano
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
mille anni silenziosi fa
ho avuto un timore nella mia vita

 



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