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death poem

lá pela janela na casa velha
nossos momentos agradáveis voam
macia agora a luz do dia
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
splendor doce
uma pena do aço
meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim
três dias eu ouvi-os afligir-se quando eu coloco absolutamente
sob a folha dusky do laurel
eu vi-o uma vez antes
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
eu estou cantando-lhe
veja, eles retornam

 



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