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abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
tem um espaço livre, loveliness vento-protegido
em seus regimentals ásperos
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
mas alas, sonhos justos
havia um strangeness em seus bordos
abaixo do helm do guerreiro
perguntam-me onde eu estive
quando, cheio do amor morno e ansioso
calma como que segundo verão
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
tempestade
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
eu ouvi-os na noite

 



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