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brother poem

amico, di cui il sorriso è venuto essere
vecchio vino da bere
una foschia stava guidando giù
fiori dei bambini
là dalla finestra nella vecchia casa
la mia madre twines me rose bagnate con rugiada
nei numeri mournful
ci è un'ora di riposo pacifico
morbidamente piangendo
uomo freddo severo
perchè facciali sempre basamento là che rabbrividisce
città che non è una città
ultima mezzanotte
i corridoi di marmo resounding lunghi

 



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