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sister poem

quando o véu dos olhos for levantado
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
eu estou cantando-lhe
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
os corredores de mármore resounding longos
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
como nivelar cai
conseqüentemente eu não posso
aflija-se não para o invisível
os poetas dizem
os arcos da ponte vermelha
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
o céu
esteja em mim como os modos eternal

 



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