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autumn poem

talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
os céus que eram ashen e sober
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
como ele de quem espírito na chama do meio-dia
ruídos que strive rasgar
o justo e stately empregada doméstica, cujos olhos
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
como eu me encontro telhado dentro, selecionado dentro
eu vi as nuvens entre os montes
os navios estão encontrando-se na baía
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
como ela
vivido pelo river-side

 



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