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poem

nós colocamos
por muito tempo há, no moonlight novo
diga-me não
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
eu detestei-o
vinho velho a beber
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
ruídos que strive rasgar
algum queixou-se ao mestre
um pensamento doce solemn
eu amo minha vida, mas não demasiado bem
deixe-me mover-se lentamente através da rua

 



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