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poem and quote

il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
i poets dicono a
fra le montagne ho vagato
questi cuori sono stati tessuti delle gioie umane e cure
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
una vita sull'onda dell'oceano
cittŕ che non č una cittŕ
ha una radura, loveliness vento-riparato
hanno avuti lui e la i ma venuto a contatto di
per questi bracci bianchi circa il mio collo
la notte č scura ed i venti di inverno

 



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