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son poem

quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina
como uma vela branca
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
em setembro
gaily através dos campos nós dançamos
lá pela janela na casa velha
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
sombras voadas que varrem perto
as sombras colocam ao longo de broadway
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite

 



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