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short friendship poem

para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
conseqüentemente eu não posso
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verão brilhada
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
eu sei não onde
como águias na elevação ascendente
se eu for muito certo
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
no recolhimento da escuridão e pedem
fala não bem
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir

 



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