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best friend poem

o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
beaux, tragical visages
oranges de plumaison nubian bleu-noires
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
si j'avais su l'étroit une prison est amour
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
avec les yeux doux et bruns
le plus triste de l'année
bas! 'tis par nuit de gala
ne vous affligez pas qu'elle plus de
certains des maux que vous avez traités

 



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