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gothic poetry

i loro capelli bei
non ci č fuga dal fiume
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
morbidamente piangendo
li ho sentiti nella notte
sposti la terra in tempo nuvoloso
dicami non
ho fatto una volta soltanto un voto, uno
gli archi del ponticello rosso
il sole ha fatto un passo giů dal suo throne dorato
questi cuori sono stati tessuti delle gioie umane e cure
i giorni hypocritic

 



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