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son poem

in pieno delle rotture
all'interno della mia mano tengo
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
lo ho visto una volta prima
dicami
chi chiamerŕ il vento
il rullo triste del tamburo desonorizzato ha battimento
veda, da questa falsificazione di lui
il padrone dei destini umani sono io
rinnovi la visione di piacere
non sia arrabbiato con me

 



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