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anniversary poetry

avec ses cheveux flaying d'une manière extravagante
behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
tout mon amour pour mon bonbon
sous la lune de moisson
voici se trouver une dame la plus belle
son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
nous qui se sont tenus
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir
en dessous de cette tombe modeste un conqueror se trouve
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée

 



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