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broken heart poem

je vais ma manière complacently
étaient elle pas pour cette odeur singulière
en tant qu'elle
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
la musique i entendu avec vous était plus que la musique
pourquoi si triste mon bel?
avant le saint en bronze solennel
tristement parlant
les petites prières blanches
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
l'obscurité roule vers le haut
pour la vérité, pour l'amour

 



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