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suicide poem

mi domando dove vivete
ci č un paese in pieno di vino
per questi bracci bianchi circa il mio collo
la neve bisbiglia circa me
per coprire il pensiero ardente
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
i giorni endeared ad ogni MUSE
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
chi chiamerŕ il vento
nelle mattine nube-grige
in un vecchio alloggiamento si č illuminato morbidamente
forse
per ero un consigliere gaunt e grave

 



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