The Egyptian Woman
T Tom Billsborough
0
Altın Yaprak
Where you sink, depth no longer is.
It is enough that I transport your breath
Within a single reed for a seed to burst
Beneath my heel upon these sands.
All came of a single blow of which nothing remains.
Nothing but the mark on my door
Of the embalmer's burned hands.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş