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black poetry

macio como a cama na terra
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vôo do falcão
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
três dias eu ouvi-os afligir-se quando eu coloco absolutamente
sobre os rooftops compita as sombras das nuvens
o prado estava rastejando
eu tive um medo em minha vida
nós não éramos muitos

 



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