sábado, junho 18, 2005
Curtas II (Sobre pássaros)
Mechanical Birds
Wingless we crawl up
The skeleton tree of the night
To perch on the highest branches
Where our worn voices thin
In whispers of lament
For a dead moon rising
These fragments I have shored against my ruins - T. S. Eliot.
Mechanical Birds
Wingless we crawl up
The skeleton tree of the night
To perch on the highest branches
Where our worn voices thin
In whispers of lament
For a dead moon rising