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spanish poem

vecchio vino da bere
quando il velare dagli occhi č alzato
ci č un paese in pieno di vino
come le aquile sul high alto
li ho sentiti nella notte
e con l'uccello di ronzio
facce belle e tragical
perchč allora, il mosto noi vede?
sono andati i tre, quelle sorelle rare
amo rubare per un po'via
ho scagliato la mia anima all'aria come un volo del falco
al lato di un campo raso
ad alcuno i dii grassi
ci č una cittŕ, builded da nessuna mano

 



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