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son poem

persino avrebbe suo scherzo
ultima mezzanotte
chi chiamerà il vento
amico, di cui il sorriso è venuto essere
fino alla sua finestra dell'alloggiamento
benchè sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole
le canzoni antiche
su e giù va
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
metà di piaceri e palazzi benchè possiamo vagare
quindi non posso
la notte è scura ed i venti di inverno
i giorni hypocritic
osservi fuori sulle stelle, il mio amore

 



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