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haiku poem

per questi bracci bianchi circa il mio collo
non brucio incenso
all'alba, ha detto
la festività reale è stata fatta
dal ponticello rude
per potere vedere ogni lato di ogni domanda
amavo una donna
limps con la fermata del passo doloroso
cammino giù i percorsi del giardino
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
agito i miei capelli nel vento della mattina
fino alla sua finestra dell'alloggiamento

 



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