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sorry poem

senza dubbio mi ricordo di ancora
l'aria č piena l'alba del e la molla
i cieli che erano ashen e sobrio
avete camminare visto attraverso il villaggio
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
semplicemente parlando
travails della terra
il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
se avessi saputo lo stretto una prigione č amore
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
potrebbe conoscerla nella molla piů in anticipo
ho avuto un sogno e mi sono svegliato con esso
sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
lŕ dalla finestra nella vecchia casa

 



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