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haiku poem

sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
les jours mélancoliques sont venus
voyez, ils retournent
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir
se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas
j'ai vu les étoiles les plus fičres
ŕ l'aube, il a dit
il n'y a aucune bande, toutefois observé et tendu
aimez-moi enfin, ou si vous pas
éliminer, luttant vainly
tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
volonté vous miroitez sur la mer?
donnez-moi

 



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