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à travers He va
gloom
avant le saint en bronze solennel
beaux, tragical visages
roses et or
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
hors de la fenêtre une mer des arbres verts
quand les heures du jour sont numérotées
enveloppez la terre par temps nuageux
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
j'ai vu les nuages parmi les collines
dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
du plancher au plafond
jusqu'à sa fenêtre de chambre

 



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