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famous poetry

ora
poiché ho ritenuto il senso della morte
il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
vedo tutti gli spiriti umani
sotto un albero di diffusione della castagna
un'ombra grigia sottile sul bordo di pensiero
ho visto con gli occhi aperti
lasci il unsaid bello di parole
che cosa era esso i motori detti
ho conosciuto il silenzio delle stelle e del mare
sto cantando voi
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro

 



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