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nature poem

eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vôo do falcão
não permaneça não mais
diz de épocas velhas boas
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
levantado dos mortos
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
deus
felicidade
não há nenhum rebanho, porém prestado atenção e tendido
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
paredes e enorme elevados
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred

 



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