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child poem

velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
melhore do que o granito
paredes e enorme elevados
quem ama a chuva
o dia é feito
uma vez este turf macio
há qualquer um lá
os navios estão encontrando-se na baía
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
o céu
quando eu retornei no por do sol

 



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