Fakat bu bir fısıltı!
yılanın dilinde, incecik tıslamalar sarmış olandı çevremizi!
Hangman arms -embrace without a hugs- with mud and heckled the good one. Hence they caught him with a noose. They all who hereabouts, can not hear the voice, i: Around “Mercury-skyoath-cemeyard-shift”; hereabouts and here and there, there came ghots.
A Hundred out of thousands, mitres; i watched -walking with harmony. but about the things they had built; oh, what an extraordinary hierarchy -‘Real-Guinea-pigs’ threw guillotines: This ain’t the Lord, in the centre of the big, dark hall. They might have been slept, those mitres -as it was known- now and from now on, they may be awaken. However, i changed the bukalemun, and the roofs: in the name of the hangman’s, i dressed. (Hexagon’s a padlock -like your mouth: shut the mouth! shut your mouth! Speak! ! and you know my dear, hexagon’s a hare! (dare just, without a thought honey, dare! you hare and be aware, beware! and before it, just take care! are you escaping? But you’re icicle, comin’ as glaciers from gutters of this roof! -Skyoath! i saw you! - But, my dear, are you water?) I swear, for me especially, that is not gonna be hurt: Billions out of thousands, i usually swum!
Tamamını Oku
Bu şiir ile ilgili 0 tane yorum bulunmakta