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sympathy poem

dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
de la chanson et du rêve pour jamais allé
exprimons nos passions plus basses
le soleil a fait un pas vers le bas de son trĂ´ne d'or
il y a une heure du repos paisible
simplement parlant
ce compagnon étrange est venu sur brouiller des pieds
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
par le pont grossier
je me suis tenu prĂŞt le tissu pour rideaux ouvert

 



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