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haiku poetry

le soleil est vers le haut
quand les heures du jour sont numérotées
les drowses pâles de jour sur l'occidental trempent
voyez, de cette contrefaçon de lui
là par la fenêtre dans la vieille maison
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
en ce moment
travails de la terre
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi

 



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