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lungo una riva del fiume
ho visto con gli occhi aperti
braided e tessuto
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
li ho sentiti nella notte
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
ho lanciato il mondo
ora mentre i miei labbri stanno vivendo
dai prati ricchi con cereale
dite che lo amate
e con l'uccello di ronzio
ci č una cittŕ, builded da nessuna mano

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

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  • The Gift of Prose to Soothe the Traveler - New York Times
  • The great Indian Empress conquest - Hindustan Times
  • State briefs: Sunday, May 25, 2008 - NewsOK.com (subscription)
  • Community Calendar from 4/17 edition - The Milford Observer
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