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pumpkin poem

eu sou o vento que wavers
uma pena do aço
tĂŞm vocĂŞ ouvido
faça os meninos e as meninas vão ainda
sob a folha dusky do laurel
em seus regimentals ásperos
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
uma vida na onda do oceano
nĂŁo se aflija que sobre
eu ouvi-os na noite
as canções antigas
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
eu amo roubar por algum tempo afastado

 



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