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broken heart poem

questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
la pioggia finito e l'aria brillante
travails della terra
ottanta anni hanno passato e pi
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente stata mescolata
impaurito nient'altro, dico
semplicit
bench repine di amore e strofinio di motivo
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
dai nostri posti nascosti
il cielo
quel compagno sconosciuto venuto sul mescolareare i piedi
un miglio dietro
ho detto, io ho chiuso il mio cuore

 



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