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poetry poem

muito bem, você liberais
eu sou uma mulher
apenas agora
o que era ele os motores ditos
agora quando meus bordos viverem
vinho velho a beber
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
quando liberdade de sua altura da montanha
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
eu quero saber às vezes se for realmente verdadeiro
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
sumário em uma noite do vôo
o prado estava rastejando
veja, eles retornam

 



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