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child poetry

come le aquile sul high alto
i giorni malinconici sono venuto
in vostri bracci era il piacere tranquillo
sto morendo
il dolce con il fern ed è aumentato
risiedo alla montagna della tabella
mondo che cambia sotto la mia mano
ho scagliato la mia anima all'aria come un volo del falco
impaurito nient'altro, dico
non dal mondo largo di tutto
gaily attraverso i campi abbiamo ballato
non si addolori che finito
mille anni silenziosi fa
per verità, per amore

 



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