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thanksgiving poem

deixe-nos piedade aqueles de que seja melhor fora do que nós são
três anos há hoje
macia weeping
quando liberdade de sua altura da montanha
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
você ouve a chuva?
noite misteriosa
diz de épocas velhas boas
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
a lua levantando-se escondeu as estrelas
esse ano
como águias na elevação ascendente
a escuridão

 



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