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sorry poem

quando liberdade de sua altura da montanha
eu ouvi-os na noite
o oeste velho, o tempo velho
a noite era preta e drear
em seu vôo
a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada
perguntam-me onde eu estive
escute o mar soando
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
eu sei o que você está indo dizer
babylon -- onde eu vou sonhar
para a verdade, para o amor
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras

 



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