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suicide poem

sopra il fiume beckon a me
che cosa io devono voi
alcuni giorni più ventosi
quando la notte va alla deriva lungo le vie della città
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
perchè facciali sempre basamento là che rabbrividisce
lascilo essere triste
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
dal ponticello rude
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
li prevedo
che cosa noi ora farà
ed ancora hanno camminato sopra

 



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