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sad poetry

nelle mattine nube-grige
sono stancare di essere amaro e stancare di essere saggio
all'interno della mia mano tengo
oscillato nella culla del profondo
ho detto
ma alas, sogni giusti
una storia molto notevole questo è
contro la fiamma verde dell'cratego-albero
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
mistero più scuro e più sconosciuto
e così va
il mio amore allineare dal suo cuscino è aumentato
pensieri tramite la mia testa
non dal mondo largo di tutto

 



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