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romantic poetry

behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
f4-lo ouvem-se sempre de
o relâmpago piscou, e levantou
vinho velho a beber
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
havia tręs no prado pelo ribeiro
quietamente, com reverance, no awe
existir da cisne
macia agora a luz do dia
mas eu năo posso lę-lo agora
evidenciado no glimmer em seus olhos
perguntam-me onde eu estive
a neve sussurra sobre mim
săo vocę vivo?

 



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