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thank you poem

duas fileiras dos repolhos
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
há um país completamente do vinho
o sol está acima
os céus que eram ashen e sober
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
em setembro
para a verdade, para o amor
levantou-se e o âmbar era o por do sol no rio
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
gloom

 



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