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poem for pastors

eu tenho que dizer good-night
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
veio fazer exame de me pela mão
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril
agora que eu lhe esfriei
há uma hora do descanso calmo
os prayers brancos pequenos
com seu cabelo que flaying descontroladamente
no recolhimento da escuridão e pedem
gloom
não do mundo largo do todo
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta

 



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