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african american poetry

em todas as coisas não faladas de
a neve sussurra sobre mim
para a verdade, para o amor
agora para uma luta viva e cheerful
a escuridão rola para cima
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
você diz que você me ama
esplêndido e terrível seu amor
porque assim sad meu encantador?
o relâmpago piscou, e levantou
há uma hora do descanso calmo
era o outono do ano
a agonia de ter demasiado poder

 



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