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death poem

si je meurs, pensez seulement ceci à moi
un, comme part d'un arbre
sous ma fenêtre dans une rue de ville
simplicité
l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille après feuille
les petites prières blanches
dernier minuit
vous faites ne pas entendre
la noblesse de la mort encore
à travers He va
bonne femme
son visage est juste et lisse et bon
enveloppez la terre par temps nuageux
mélancolie, bleu il était

 



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