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sad death poem

bonito
nĂŁo se aflija que sobre
fala nĂŁo bem
uma palavra do vôo de aqui e lá
eu vi que o deus vocĂŞ a duvida?
o mestre de destinies humanos Ă© mim
flores dos bebĂŞs
para trás, gire para trás
macio como a cama na terra
em seus regimentals ásperos
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
caras bonitas, tragical
em uma câmara velha iluminou-se macia
deixe-nos plantar

 



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