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sad poetry

meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
tĂŞm vocĂŞ ouvido
o mestre de destinies humanos Ă© mim
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhĂŁ
Ăşltima meia-noite
eu nĂŁo queimo nenhum incense
olhe para trás com olhos longing e saiba que eu seguirei
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas
deve ir para trás, disse

 



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