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child poem

era l'autunno dell'anno
ho lanciato il mondo
la neve bisbiglia circa me
perchè così triste mio bello?
per guardare tutto il giorno l'onda blu arricciarsi e rompersi
se fossi molto sicuro
risiedo alla montagna della tabella
quando, pieno di amore caldo e desideroso
dai prati ricchi con cereale
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
i giorni hypocritic
sotto la luna della raccolta
mi sono levato in piedi
cara moglie

 



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