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thanksgiving poem

eu tenho que dizer good-night
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
temos nós nenhum shame?
eu ouvi-os na noite
sol e vento e batida do mar
muito bem, você liberais
era muitas e muito um ano há
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
eu despise meus amigos mais do que você
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares

 



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