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mother poem

la lumière retirée
juste en tant que mes doigts sur ces clefs
gloom
j'aime mon heure de vent et de lumière
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
j'ai moulé le monde
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
pharaoh, roi de la terre de l'Egypte
splendor doux
de la chanson et du rêve pour jamais allé
sous la lune de moisson
l'obscurité

 



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