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teenage love poem

se eu for muito certo
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
conseqüentemente eu não posso
diga-me não
abaixo do helm do guerreiro
uma palavra do vôo de aqui e lá
a escuridão rouba os formulários de todas as rainhas
os dias melancólicos vieram
uma vez este turf macio
seu cabelo bonito
quietamente, com reverance, no awe
envolva a terra no tempo cloudy
traga-me a canção macia

 



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