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christmas poetry

laissez le bel unsaid de mots
fleurs des bébés
aucune proie ne suis moi des pensées faibles
un oiseau a chanté
Ă  l'aube, il a dit
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit
les longs couloirs de marbre resounding
tressé et tissé
substance de la lune
hors de moi indigne et inconnu
comme lui Ă  qui esprit dans la flamme du midi
n'accrochez aucune guirlande
j'ai gagné la course

 



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