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thanksgiving poetry

il mio dispiacere, quando è qui con me
parla non bene
chi è il corridore nei cieli
ascolti
lungamente fa, nel moonlight giovane
semplicità
sonno, fratello grigio della morte
appena come mie barrette su queste chiavi
mi sono levato in piedi
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
rinnovi la visione di piacere
vi ricordate di
e con l'uccello di ronzio
vado il mio senso complacently

 



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