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black poetry

il piů triste dell'anno
veda che mi dň voi
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
in tutte le cose non parlate di
il giorno č fatto
travails della terra
lungamente fa, nel moonlight giovane
in qualche luogo ho letto un racconto sconosciuto, vecchio, arrugginito
un cielo che non ha conosciuto mai il sole, la luna o le stelle
ho visto che il dio voi lo dubita?
non rimanga nient'altro
il lampo ha esposto a flash ed ha alzato
facce belle e tragical
uno per uno, come va da un albero

 



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