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sad poetry

não se aflija que sobre
uma pena do aço
têm você andar visto através da vila
evidenciado no glimmer em seus olhos
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
irmão, eu sou fogo
bonito
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
e como poderia você sonho da reunião
do assoalho ao teto
babylon -- onde eu vou sonhar
acima dos prados ricos com milho
em uma câmara velha iluminou-se macia
qual eu desejo observar

 



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