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elements of poetry

amo rubare per un po'via
forse č materia che avete morto
gli archi del ponticello rosso
che cosa noi ora farŕ
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
tristi sono che conoscono non l'amore
ciň č l'arsenale
i giorni malinconici sono venuto
guardi indietro con gli occhi longing e sappia che seguirň
perchč cosě triste mio bello?
nel porto di nuovo York
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays

 



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