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daughter poem

as verdades terríveis estes sejam
escuro-eyed
eu detestei-o
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
o oeste velho, o tempo velho
eu sou o vento que wavers
você é bonito e desvanecido
da canção e do sonho para ido sempre
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vôo do falcão
não permaneça não mais
os poetas dizem

 



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