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poem for pastors

serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
ha una radura, loveliness vento-riparato
nella terra silenziosa
le montagne sono gente silenziosa
in settembre
in tutte le cose non parlate di
dal sud alla rottura del giorno
desolato e solo
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
che probabilitŕ spiteful ruba i unawares
ci era uno strangeness sui vostri labbri
i poets dicono a
amo rubare per un po'via
come livellare cade

 



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