It's not as if I owned your heart.
That is the mistake of the lover
who thinks his beloved is no longer free,
who is dismayed when she blooms
...
Read full text
Return to me, Brick! Return to me! ! !
this sonnet produces an impression of an eternal wheel. I read it and then again and then from the middle and again. it absorbs. I turns to he and may be it is he, he, he, which makes this eternal rhythm.
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
Return to me, Brick! Return to me! ! ! this sonnet produces an impression of an eternal wheel. I read it and then again and then from the middle and again. it absorbs. I turns to he and may be it is he, he, he, which makes this eternal rhythm.