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nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
escute o mar soando
algum queixou-se ao mestre
eu vi-o uma vez antes
porque
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
alguns dias mais ventosos
em possa
o sol está acima
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade
o amor foi cantado mil maneiras
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
eu sei o que você está indo dizer
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir

 



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