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sad death poem

macia agora a luz do dia
e pão do breaketh mais
a escuridão rouba os formulários de todas as rainhas
como ele de quem espírito na chama do meio-dia
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
caído assim
não seja falso
a neve sussurra sobre mim
quietamente, com reverance, no awe
eu nunca soube que a terra teve assim muito ouro
no alvorecer, disse
acima de e para baixo vai
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
tudo dentro e tudo sem mim

 



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