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teen love poem

l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
si je meurs, pensez seulement ceci Ă  moi
aucune proie ne suis moi des pensées faibles
les jours mélancoliques sont venus
affligez-vous pas pour l'invisible
le maître des destins humains suis moi
oiseaux contre le vent d'avril
il y a une heure du repos paisible
tous en baisse les années

 



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