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sad poem

un, comme part d'un arbre
ne tournez pas votre tête
nos moments plaisants volent
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
quand le vent fonctionne contre nous dans l'obscurité
j'ai entendu le vent toute la journée
à minuit
quand vous venez ce soir
les jours endeared à chaque MUSE
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte

 



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