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missing you poem

sto morendo
sentite la pioggia?
glooms delle viv-quercie
č spesso non cosě?
dove io trovili
veda lo sperimentale
da solo
dal ponticello rude
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente č stata mescolata
quando ho esaminato i vostri occhi
benchč sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole
nei loro regimentals ragged
sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto

 



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