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pumpkin poem

havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
melancolia, azul era
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
traga-me a canção macia
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
calma como que segundo verão
eu vi a primeira pera
fora do profundo e da obscuridade
eu prendo seu coração
diz de épocas velhas boas
diga-me mais menos ou diga-me mais
eu estou no amor com lugares far-seeing elevados
com seu cabelo que flaying descontroladamente

 



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