Out Of The Clay
E
Emmanuel George Cefai
0
Altın Yaprak
Out of the clay
He made it
Through more than one day
He puffed and tired
Suffering:
Then at the cusp of dusk and
Night he finished
Said: I am a Maker.
Said the Deep Rasping Voice
Above:
‘No, you be Molder-Controller, Just.'
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş