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sad love poem

le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles
ce qui conserve
remplacez la vision du plaisir
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
chère épouse
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
environ porté plainte au maître
quand j'ai regardé dans vos yeux
l'aube était vert pomme
nous qui se sont tenus
avant le saint en bronze solennel
un stylo d'acier
un regard est mais un rayon
comme un homme nu je vont

 



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