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type of poem

je me tiens par temps gris froid
en dessous de cette tombe modeste un conqueror se trouve
le mouvement de votre corps est comme la musique
j'ai dit
dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
la nuit passée la pleine lune a étendu un tissu de blanc
son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
j'ai eu une crainte dans ma vie
pour la vérité, pour l'amour
souvent je pense à la belle ville
avec la joie et la merveille

 



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