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short love poem

a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
vocĂŞ Ă© bonito e desvanecido
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
há três maneiras em que os homens fazem exame
eu disse, mim fechei meu coração
conseqĂĽentemente eu nĂŁo posso
a luz retirada
sua cara Ă© justa e lisa e fina
eu nunca soube que a terra teve assim muito ouro
eu estou morrendo
porque
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
f4-lo ouvem-se sempre de

 



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