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christmas poem

benchč sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
quando un atto č fatto per la libertą
all'interno di questa tomba umile un conqueror si trova
osservare di lą
la nerezza
e cosģ va
glass-blower di tempo
č andato
quale si conservare
la mia madre twines me rose bagnate con rugiada
ci era uno strangeness sui vostri labbri
perchč allora, il mosto noi vede?
parla non bene

 



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