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epic poetry

basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
la mia anima va placcata nelle cose gorgeous
la penso splendido giusto
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me
aranci di coglitura nubian blu-neri
fate non sentirsi
scattando in su, cadendo
mi sono levato in piedi
da me indegno e sconosciuto
una volta questo tappeto erboso molle
un miglio dietro
in settembre

 



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