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funeral poem

faccialo rotare giů dal prato
amavo una donna
la mia anima č un campo arato scuro
hanno gettato una pietra, voi hanno gettato una pietra
per venire cosě presto a questo ha immaginato l'oscuritŕ
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
sedendosi nel suo attuatore che aspetta il vostro tč
il merriment infinito e insensato delle stelle
indietro, giri indietro
cosě perso
i drowses pallidi di giorno sull'occidentale bagnano

 



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