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poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
ci sono guadagni per tutte le nostre perdite
ancora tredici anni
senza dubbio mi ricordo di ancora
mistero più scuro e più sconosciuto
la mia madre twines me rose bagnate con rugiada
uomo freddo severo
uno per uno, come va da un albero
ho sentito tutto il giorno il vento
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
così caduto
vedo tutti gli spiriti umani
per potere vedere ogni lato di ogni domanda
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo

 



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  • Net savvy 96-yr-old blogs to share ideas online - That's Cricket
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  • Delray Beach - Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel
  • To Maintain Your Misbehaving Memory, Try Alliteration - Discover Magazine
  • Grandson treasures his grandmother's work - Atlanta Journal Constitution
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  • Moodbidri: Konkani Poets Entertain August Gathering at Taccode - Daijiworld.com
 

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