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christmas poem

amo rubare per un po'via
la sua faccia è giusta e liscia e fine
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
non eravamo molti
ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
dicami piĂą di meno o dicami di piĂą
con gioia e wonder
amilo in fine, o se non
all'interno di questa tomba umile un conqueror si trova
glass-blower di tempo
quando il vento funziona contro di noi nell'oscuritĂ 
una penna di acciaio
i corridoi di marmo resounding lunghi
ci sono tre sensi in cui gli uomini prendono

 



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