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poem for dad

flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
agora para uma luta viva e cheerful
se ele
eu despise meus amigos mais do que vocĂŞ
nĂŁo pendure nenhuma grinalda
eu sou fevered
a luz retirada
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
e enquanto nĂłs andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
a noite Ă© escura, e os ventos do inverno
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
o movimento do seu corpo Ă© como a mĂşsica

 



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