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sex poem

uma vez este turf macio
deve ir para trás, disse
o mais saddest do ano
pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril
e assim vai
os arcos da ponte vermelha
as máscaras da noite estavam caindo rapidamente
eu vi a primeira pera
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verão brilhada
um por um, como sae de uma árvore
ido antes de nós
como selvagem, como bruxa-como estranho que a vida deve ser

 



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