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lyric poetry

as montanhas são povos silenciosos
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
poderíamos nós mas para saber
não se aflija que sobre
era muitas e muito um ano há
melancolia, azul era
vindo para baixo no alvorecer dos montes windless
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
simplesmente falando
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas

 



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