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poem for pastors

esta é a canção da juventude
as verdades terríveis estes sejam
eu ouvi-me que uma determinada princesa
três anos há hoje
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
do assoalho ao teto
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
faça exame de meus bracelets
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
não se aflija que sobre
nós não éramos muitos
o doce com fern e levantou-se

 



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