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epic poetry

baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
moonlight profundo e macio
eu vi com olhos abertos
os corredores de mármore resounding longos
material da lua
mundo que muda sob minha mão
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
eu tive um sonho e eu acordei com ele
evidenciado no glimmer em seus olhos
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama

 



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