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sorry poem

você ouve a chuva?
o amor foi cantado mil maneiras
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
veja que eu me dou a você
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
olhe para fora em cima das estrelas, meu amor
a algum os deuses gordos
e assim vai
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
deixe-nos piedade aqueles de que seja melhor fora do que nós são

 



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  • Height of war - Boston Globe
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  • Their final gift - Peoria Journal Star
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