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death poem

che probabilità spiteful ruba i unawares
morbidamente ora la luce del giorno
i cieli che erano ashen e sobrio
pensate, il mio ragazzo, quando metto i miei bracci intorno voi
vado il mio senso complacently
la notte scorsa la luna piena ha posto un panno del bianco
quindi non posso
la fragranza è venuto
oscillato nella culla del profondo
all'interno di questa tomba umile un conqueror si trova
per potere vedere ogni lato di ogni domanda

 



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