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birthday poetry

non si addolori che finito
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
la notte era nera e drear
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
i drowses pallidi di giorno sull'occidentale bagnano
cammino giů i percorsi del giardino
lascilo essere triste
ho avuto un sogno e mi sono svegliato con esso
era una bellezza nei giorni

 



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