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mother poem

Cred că de multe ori de la oras frumos
făcut de băieţi şi fete mai duc
care iubeşte ploaie
cu blând, ochii maro
fiica, mii de arta de a muri venit
sub lună plină
i merge la căile de gradina
alas, dar, doar vise
solemnă înainte de bronz saint
aceste inimi au fost de ţesut uman bucuriile si pasa
Impunerea, lupta vainly
umbre pune lungul Broadway
i atunci când mă întorc la pământ


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