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pumpkin poem

pela costa, pelo mar
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred
se ele
diz de épocas velhas boas
glooms dos viv-carvalhos
encontra-se aqui uma senhora a mais bonita
os dias endeared a cada MUSE
da canção e do sonho para ido sempre
gloom
qual eu desejo observar
sob a lua da colheita
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta

 



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