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funny poetry

em uma câmara velha iluminou-se macia
têm você andar visto através da vila
você é bonito e desvanecido
para então without
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
porque
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
pela ponte rude
ido antes de nós
aqueles no superior dizem que o conhecem, terra -- são liars
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
veja que eu me dou a você
pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril

 



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