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def poetry

o ar é como uma borboleta
agite
os dias melancólicos vieram
a noite era preta e drear
eu penso d esplęndido justo
até sua janela da câmara
eu v todas as sagacidades humanas
de repente, fora das maneiras escuras e frondosas
ainda treze anos
macio como a cama na terra
quando a noite drifts ao longo das ruas da cidade
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vôo do falcăo
tempestade

 



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