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type of poem

morbido come la base nella terra
morbidamente piangendo
aumentato dai morti
sono andati i tre, quelle sorelle rare
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
il padrone dei destini umani sono io
ci č un'ora di riposo pacifico
la festivitŕ reale č stata fatta
sono stancare di essere amaro e stancare di essere saggio
ci situiamo
la sua faccia č giusta e liscia e fine
non brucio incenso
perchč cosě triste mio bello?

 



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