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life poem

li ho detestati
all'interno della mia mano tengo
malinconia, azzurro era
il cielo
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
lungamente fa la luce solare di estate lucidare
mi chiedono dove sono stato
morbidamente ora la luce del giorno
il piů triste dell'anno
glass-blower di tempo
mi sono sentito che una principessa sicura
un'ombra grigia sottile sul bordo di pensiero
poco cancello č stato raggiunto in fine
per allora senza

 



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