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son poem

paredes e enorme elevados
estes sejam
esta é a canção da juventude
a o que uma mulher a comparará beloved
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vôo do falcão
vindo para baixo no alvorecer dos montes windless
e com o pássaro humming
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
sob a lua da colheita
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas

 



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