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memorial poem

se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
ha detto
su e giů va
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
amo rubare per un po'via
passato inesorabile di thou
ho visto le stelle piů fiere
sotto la luna della raccolta
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente č stata mescolata
truely
calma come che seconda estate
vi ricordate di
amo la mia ora di vento e di luce
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes

 



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