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autumn poem

sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
gli archi del ponticello rosso
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
ma alas, sogni giusti
che cosa era esso i motori detti
era una bellezza nei giorni
se avessi saputo lo stretto una prigione č amore
sto cantando voi
veda che mi dň voi
perchč
quando il velare dagli occhi č alzato
fino alla sua finestra dell'alloggiamento
vedrň stasera una stella
l'aria č come una farfalla

 



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