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sorry poem

il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
mentre mi sono levato in piedi ascoltare, discreetly dumb
dalla finestra un mare degli alberi verdi
in un vecchio alloggiamento si č illuminato morbidamente
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
al lover appassionato
ed ancora hanno camminato sopra
una pesca piccola nel frutteto si č sviluppata
hanno avuti lui e la i ma venuto a contatto di
ci č una cittŕ, builded da nessuna mano
travails della terra
provato nel glimmer nei vostri occhi

 



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