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funeral poem

travails della terra
quando libertà dalla sua altezza della montagna
quando il velare dagli occhi è alzato
sono nell'amore con gli alti posti far-seeing
di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno
agito i miei capelli nel vento della mattina
ho fatto una volta soltanto un voto, uno
ascolti il mare suonante
corsa alto-sopportata
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
a che cosa una donna la paragonerà cara
quando ero si è rotto a Londra

 



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