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erotic poetry

era l'autunno dell'anno
cantili ancora alla canzone cantati
vado il mio senso complacently
una pesca piccola nel frutteto si è sviluppata
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
fiori dei bambini
amo rubare per un po'via
ascolti il mare suonante
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
in settembre
e pane del breaketh non di piĂą
sia in me come gli atteggiamenti eternal
tutti dentro e tutti senza di me

 



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