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good bye poem

escuro-eyed
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
o que mim lhe devem
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
e meu nome é truthful
a escuridão
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
diz de épocas velhas boas
os dias hypocritic
com o por do sol
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
meu amor verdadeiro de seu descanso levantou-se

 



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