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autumn poem

il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
come io aiuti alla destra il mondo che sta andando male
siete vivi?
forse è materia che avete morto
nel porto di nuovo York
mi chiedono dove sono stato
le ombre pongono lungo broadway
la mia anima è un campo arato scuro
ho visto le nubi fra le colline
tristi sono che conoscono non l'amore
ha detto
passato inesorabile di thou
fra le montagne ho vagato
la luce ritirata

 



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