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best love poem

à l'amoureux passionné
mais je ne puis pas vous lire maintenant
se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas
il y avait un strangeness sur vos lèvres
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
bien que repine d'amour, et frottement de raison
il y avait un temps en anciennes années
leurs beaux cheveux
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
dans le port de New York
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée

 



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