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child poem

non posso ora dirvi
sotto la mia finestra in una via della cittŕ
non ci č moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
la fragranza č venuto
il mio amore allineare dal suo cuscino č aumentato
tristemente parlando
dal sud alla rottura del giorno
rumori che si sforzano strapparsi
dal puntello, dal mare
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
un'ombra grigia sottile sul bordo di pensiero
l'aria č come una farfalla

 



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