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suicide poem

a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
mulher boa
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
tiveram e i mas encontrado com
antes do saint de bronze solemn
a escuridão
estes corações foram tecidos de alegrias e de cuidados humanos
moonlight profundo e macio
eu resido na montanha da tabela
a escuridão rouba os formulários de todas as rainhas
eu não queimo nenhum incense

 



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