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short poem

o mestre de destinies humanos é mim
a criança que jogou afastado a folha após a folha
sobre o rio beckon a mim
o relâmpago piscou, e levantou
deve ir para trás, disse
pôde tê-lo sabido na mola mais adiantada
os prayers brancos pequenos
eu ouvi-os na noite
esse ano
era o outono do ano
a algum os deuses gordos
o merriment infinito, foolish das estrelas
é frequentemente não assim?
conseqüentemente eu não posso

 



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