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child poem

quando ero si č rotto a Londra
osservare di lŕ
limps con la fermata del passo doloroso
babylon -- dove vado sognare
dal puntello, dal mare
lascilo essere triste
sonno dolce nelle vostre tombe humble
agito i miei capelli nel vento della mattina
l'aria č come una farfalla
passando tramite le pareti huddled ed ugly
ci č un paese in pieno di vino
braided e tessuto
ed ancora hanno camminato sopra
sceso all'alba dalle colline windless

 



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