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erotic poetry

un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
impaurito nient'altro, dico
sotto il foglio dusky dell'alloro
ma alas, sogni giusti
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me
ho scagliato la mia anima all'aria come un volo del falco
ora per una lotta attiva e cheerful
dialo
poco parco che attraverso
buona donna
è spesso non così?
alla mezzanotte
debole-è traversata la canzone
benchè sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole

 



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