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death poetry

quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
eu não posso sempre sentir seu greatness
irmão, eu sou fogo
eu ganhei a raça
há um que esse i amou uma vez assim muito
quietamente, com reverance, no awe
perguntam-me onde eu estive
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
as verdades terríveis estes sejam
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
carrinho aqui por meu lado
duas fileiras dos repolhos
melancolia, azul era

 



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