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death poem

perchč
il cielo
li ho fatti un'offerta tutto l'addio
sonno dolce nelle vostre tombe humble
addolorisi non per l'invisibile
č ci qualcuno lŕ
il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
perchč allora, il mosto noi vede?
sotto la luna della raccolta
esprimiamo le nostre passioni piů basse
cittŕ che non č una cittŕ
la musica i si č sentita con voi era piů della musica

 



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