Out of the road into a way across
And I would like
VIII. Russia: The Great Northern Expedition
Right, and appears from here to be overcome
Covering the land—
III. Chronology of Northern Exploration
Is the moon to grow
How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,
When I am heard, and what I say is solely
But snow has gathered there, has piled up,
Through the back of the picture at the patch of white
Brush the lone giant in that somber pall.
To run, as in the time of the bee, seeking
Its consciousness of my white consciousness,
Right, and appears from here to be overcome
Amid the gloom, there, on the pole, stands black
to restaurants for Early Bird Specials.
Away, my songs, must we go
The pain of being born into matter.
And I would like
VIII. Russia: The Great Northern Expedition
Right, and appears from here to be overcome
Covering the land—
III. Chronology of Northern Exploration
Is the moon to grow
How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,
When I am heard, and what I say is solely
But snow has gathered there, has piled up,
Through the back of the picture at the patch of white
Brush the lone giant in that somber pall.
To run, as in the time of the bee, seeking
Its consciousness of my white consciousness,
Right, and appears from here to be overcome
Amid the gloom, there, on the pole, stands black
to restaurants for Early Bird Specials.
Away, my songs, must we go
The pain of being born into matter.
No hay comentarios.:
Publicar un comentario