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anniversary poem

um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
flores dos bebês
filhas do tempo
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas
eu nunca soube que a terra teve assim muito ouro
quando a noite drifts ao longo das ruas da cidade
última noite a lua cheia colocou um pano do branco
os dias hypocritic
não se aflija que sobre
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
há um país completamente do vinho

 



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