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best friend poem

les drowses pâles de jour sur l'occidental trempent
et pendant que nous marchions l'herbe a été faiblement remuée
ŕ certains les gros dieux
le vieil ouest, le vieux temps
comment comme les étoiles sont ces le blanc, les visages inconnus
les jours mélancoliques sont venus
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
une fois ce gazon mou
j'aime voler pendant quelque temps loin
je suis allé ŕ travers les rues

 



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