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free online love poem

sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
ho scagliato la mia anima all'aria come un volo del falco
parla non bene
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
perchč cosě triste mio bello?
siete bei e sbiaditi
il corpo puň limitare
tristemente parlando
disprezzo i miei amici piů di voi
a che cosa una donna la paragonerŕ cara
il prato stava strisciando

 



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