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religious poem

siete bei e sbiaditi
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
ho avuto un timore nella mia vita
e pane del breaketh non di piů
truely
dolce e forte
sotto la luna della raccolta
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
sotto il timone del guerriero
cosě caduto
č allineare che dite che i dii sono piů uso a voi che i fairies
tutti dentro e tutti senza di me
prima del san bronze solenne
č aumentato e l'ambra era il tramonto sul fiume

 



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