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friend poetry

tutti quei tesori che si trovano
le montagne sono gente silenziosa
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
il sole ha fatto un passo giů dal suo throne dorato
chi č il corridore nei cieli
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me
ho sentito tutto il giorno il vento
aranci di coglitura nubian blu-neri

 



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