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grandmother poem

desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
nunca em toda minha vida
a noite Ă© escura, e os ventos do inverno
havia trĂŞs no prado pelo ribeiro
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes
veja, desta moeda falsa dele
o movimento do seu corpo Ă© como a mĂşsica
este Ă© o arsenal
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio
não permaneça não mais
minha mĂŁe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
tiveram e i mas encontrado com
abaixo do helm do guerreiro

 



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