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sad poetry

nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta
como uma vela branca
macia agora a luz do dia
por muito tempo há, no moonlight novo
eu encho este copo
mundo que muda sob minha măo
é frequentemente năo assim?
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
quem ama a chuva
o oeste velho, o tempo velho
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se

 



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