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autumn poetry

alti pareti ed enorme
siete svegli?
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
sono il vento che esita
uomo freddo severo
abbiamo nessuno shame?
ho entrato nel deserto perché la mia anima č athirst
il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
veda che mi dň voi
il piů triste dell'anno
sono fevered
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
in pieno delle rotture
ho visto le stelle piů fiere

 



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