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è spesso non così?
quando libertà dalla sua altezza della montagna
guardi indietro con gli occhi longing e sappia che seguirò
volontà glimmer sul mare?
scattando in su, cadendo
osservi fuori sulle stelle, il mio amore
la notte è scura ed i venti di inverno
per coprire il pensiero ardente
ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa
per ero un consigliere gaunt e grave
perchè così triste mio bello?

 



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