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acrostic poem

potremmo ma sapere
benchè repine di amore e strofinio di motivo
debole-è traversata la canzone
sto morendo
una volta questo tappeto erboso molle
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
basamento qui dal mio lato
sonno, fratello grigio della morte
all'interno della mia mano tengo
ma alas, sogni giusti
esprimiamo le nostre passioni più basse
ho lanciato il mondo
molto bene, voi liberali

 



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