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spanish poem

questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
ora per una lotta attiva e cheerful
quando ho rinviato al tramonto
mi sono sentito che una principessa sicura
la mia anima un campo arato scuro
fra le montagne ho vagato
vi ricordate di
li prevedo
con il tramonto
l'agonia di avere troppa alimentazione
come io aiuti alla destra il mondo che sta andando male
i cieli che erano ashen e sobrio

 



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