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lyric poetry

il sole ha fatto un passo giů dal suo throne dorato
sotto la mia finestra in una via della cittŕ
era l'autunno dell'anno
quindi non posso
nei loro regimentals ragged
stuff della luna
behold me, in miei chiffon, garza e canutiglia
non ci č fuga dal fiume
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
a volte mi domando se č realmente allineare
glooms delle viv-quercie
dio
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire

 



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