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father poem

il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
le tonalitŕ della notte stavano cadendo velocemente
pensate, il mio ragazzo, quando metto i miei bracci intorno voi
ascolti
sopra il fiume beckon a me
sonno, fratello grigio della morte
nella terra silenziosa
amico, di cui il sorriso č venuto essere
splendido e terribile il vostro amore
in qualche luogo ho letto un racconto sconosciuto, vecchio, arrugginito
le preghiere bianche piccole

 



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