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lyric poem

sommeil, frère gris de la mort
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
ils me demandent où j'ai été
laissez le bel unsaid de mots
avant le saint en bronze solennel
les jours mélancoliques sont venus
elle doit retourner, elle a dit
ami, dont le sourire est venu pour être
le mystère le plus foncé et le plus étrange
très bien, vous libéraux
je l'aime
beaux, tragical visages
il était un jeune oysterman grand
doucement maintenant la lumière du jour

 



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