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sorry poem

il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
conosco non dove
ci č un paese in pieno di vino
i drowses pallidi di giorno sull'occidentale bagnano
nella terra silenziosa
moonlight profondo e tenero
della l'oscuritŕ e pace nel mia base finale
ad alcuno i dii grassi
e come potreste sogno della riunione
ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
in vostri bracci era il piacere tranquillo

 



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