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type of poetry

perchč allora, il mosto noi vede?
sole e vento e battimento del mare
sposti la terra in tempo nuvoloso
persino avrebbe suo scherzo
poco parco che attraverso
all'interno di questa tomba umile un conqueror si trova
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
i nostri momenti piacevoli volano
il sole č in su
quale si conservare
a che cosa una donna la paragonerŕ cara
ci sono guadagni per tutte le nostre perdite

 



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