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sad poem

havia um strangeness em seus bordos
uplifting, como o vento fundiu
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
com os olhos meek, marrons
vocę recorda
de encontro ŕ flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
a festa real foi feita
caras bonitas, tragical
um por um, como sae de uma árvore
mundo que muda sob minha măo
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verăo brilhada
teria mesmo seu gracejo

 



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