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sad poetry

sono il vento che esita
sotto il timone del guerriero
lasci il unsaid bello di parole
e come potreste sogno della riunione
piantiamo
metà di piaceri e palazzi benchè possiamo vagare
sopra i tetti corra le ombre delle nubi
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

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  • 0710 THEATER DANCE ARTS Listings - Daily Herald
  • Remembering Mr. Garrett - Charlottesville Daily Progress
  • Zandra has auld Hawick at heart - Hawick Today
  • Hunan Seafood: Hunan restaurant spices up Rosemead - Pasadena Star-News
  • People on the Move - Baltimore Sun
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  • 'My Dad': The winning poems - Daily Journal
 

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