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romantic love poem

pour vêtir la pensée ardente
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
pensées par ma tête
l'obscurité vole les formes de toutes les reines
elle doit retourner, elle a dit
il y a trois ans d'aujourd'hui
du soleil ni des étoiles
dossier une nuit de vol
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
je descends les chemins de jardin
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
ne tournez pas votre tête

 



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