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mom poem

basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
sto morendo
non si addolori che finito
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
i loro capelli bei
amo rubare per un po'via
uomo freddo severo
le stelle sono caduto da cielo
pensieri tramite la mia testa
che probabilitŕ spiteful ruba i unawares
una storia molto notevole questo č
non sia arrabbiato con me
siete svegli?
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma

 



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