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suicide poetry

mai in tutta la mia vita
rompiamo il vetro di cui vino sacred
ho entrato nel deserto perché la mia anima č athirst
ora mentre i miei labbri stanno vivendo
la pioggia finito e l'aria brillante
prima del san bronze solenne
sotto la luna della raccolta
desolato e solo
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
in qualche luogo ho letto un racconto sconosciuto, vecchio, arrugginito
vado il mio senso complacently
ora
passato inesorabile di thou

 



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