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death poem

i loro capelli bei
un pensiero dolce solenne
per questi bracci bianchi circa il mio collo
quando vado di nuovo a terra
rumori che si sforzano strapparsi
come un uomo nudo io va
di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno
quando, pieno di amore caldo e desideroso
dal profondo e l'oscuritŕ
gli archi del ponticello rosso
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
lascili pity coloro di che sia migliore fuori che noi sono
morbido come la base nella terra

 



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