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father poem

uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
se eu souber o narrow uma prisĂŁo Ă© amor
traga-me a canção macia
o dia Ă© feito
como uma vela branca
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
sobre o rio, no monte
deve ir para trás, disse
a lua levantando-se escondeu as estrelas

 



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