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erotic poetry

ora per una lotta attiva e cheerful
la mia madre twines me rose bagnate con rugiada
era una bellezza nei giorni
malinconia, azzurro era
quegli occhi neri i una volta così elogiato
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
rumori che si sforzano strapparsi
dice a di buoni vecchi periodi
tutti dentro e tutti senza di me
sono il vento che esita
ho detto
ascolti

 



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