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levantou-se e o âmbar era o por do sol no rio
última noite a lua cheia colocou um pano do branco
de repente, fora das maneiras escuras e frondosas
todos quiet ao longo do potomac
ainda treze anos
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
eu disse, mim fechei meu coração
esta é a canção da juventude
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
não gire sua cabeça

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

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  • wednesday (The Olympian)
  • How our pious predecessors observed the blessed month - Gulf Times
  • Sacred Heart's helping hand - Greenwich Time
  • Saxophonist Oliver Lake live in STL as part of ‘BAG and Beyond’ - St. Louis American
  • Most recognized Palestinian poet dies in US hospital - Al-Bawaba
  • Top USC Olympic moments - Daily Trojan Online
  • The many ages of Herodotus - Times Online
  • Traveling Poetry Hut - WSHM-TV
  • Invitation to contribute to arts website - Airdrie and Coatbridge Advertiser
  • Vikings or Taliban… Can You Spot the Difference? - Islam Online
 

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