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modern poetry

la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi
améliorez que le granit
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
qui est le coureur dans les cieux
vers l'arrière, tournez vers l'arrière
du soleil ni des étoiles
un mille derrière
ce que je souhaite remarquer
au-dessus d'elles toutes, regardant vers le bas
ami, dont le sourire est venu pour être
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes

 



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