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grandmother poem

o amor foi cantado mil maneiras
bonito
até sua janela da câmara
sob a lua da colheita
eu moldei o mundo
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
tĂŞm vocĂŞ nĂŁo ouvido
fraco-é voada a canção
Ăşltima noite a lua cheia colocou um pano do branco
não há nenhum escape pelo rio
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo

 



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