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poem for dad

quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
vous faites ne pas entendre
l'obscurité vole les formes de toutes les reines
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
simplicité
leurs beaux cheveux
il y a trois manières dont les hommes prennent
pour vêtir la pensée ardente
la nuit passée la pleine lune a étendu un tissu de blanc
tranquillement, avec le reverance, dans la crainte
quand le vent fonctionne contre nous dans l'obscurité
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
allé avant nous

 



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