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type of poetry

sous la barre du guerrier
vers l'arrière, tournez vers l'arrière
je sais pas oĂą
mais alas, rĂŞves justes
ne restez pas plus
Ă  certains les gros dieux
doucement pleurant
short et doux, et nous sommes arrivés à la fin de lui
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
il y a une heure du repos paisible
frère, je suis le feu
l'obscurité vole les formes de toutes les reines
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire

 



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