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sad poetry

em uma câmara velha iluminou-se macia
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
năo esteja irritado com mim
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
vinho velho a beber
quando eu for para trás ligar ŕ terra
diga-me mais menos ou diga-me mais
todos tragam os anos
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
veja, desta moeda falsa dele
os céus que eram ashen e sober

 



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