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grandmother poem

a neve sussurra sobre mim
eu sei o que você está indo dizer
os prayers brancos pequenos
do sol nem das estrelas
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
sad são que sabem não o amor
laranjas arrancando nubian azul-pretas
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim
quando uma ação for feita para a liberdade
quando o véu dos olhos for levantado

 



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