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sad death poem

o pasăre a cântat
ceea ce face i pentru a vă datorez
în braţele tale a fost încă delecta
acesta este arsenalul
dragă soţie
mama mea sforilor trandafiri-mi ud cu rouă
frumos
plecat sunt cele trei, cele surori rare
printre fum de ceaţă şi de după-amiază de decembrie
încă treisprezece ani
de sub războinic al cârma
nu aţi auzit de
cine am fost
frate, eu sunt de foc

 



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