Yinglish Strophes VI -- Thomas Fink He sleeps, he sleeps. Nature tells you to be still already. Now is the ice December when the old. . . . 1905 I came the freedom land. That should go well my family. Lately my children finished the middle age. Me still sitting crooked this chair against the television. He sleeps. No more 66 years. Me still greenhorn on the mouth. Is what you asking my three words poetry learning the future.
He sleeps, he sleeps. Nature tells you to be still already. Now is the ice December when the old. . . . 1905 I came the freedom land. That should go well my family. Lately my children finished the middle age. Me still sitting crooked this chair against the television. He sleeps. No more 66 years. Me still greenhorn on the mouth. Is what you asking my three words poetry learning the future.
