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autumn poem

sob uma árvore espalhando da castanha
os dias hypocritic
nós não éramos muitos
podem falar do amor em uma casa de campo
escute o mar soando
em todas as coisas não faladas de
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol
pharaoh, rei da terra de Egipto
eu sei o que você está indo dizer
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
como como as estrelas é este o branco, as caras nameless

 



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