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type of poem

le soleil a fait un pas vers le bas de son trône d'or
observer toute la journée la vague bleue se courber et se casser
basculé dans le berceau du profond
levé des morts
vécu à côté de la rive
il y a trois manières dont les hommes prennent
donnez-moi la faim
j'ai entendu qu'une certaine princesse
je fais ma monture, mais personne ne sait
orage
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
chien de guingan et le chat de calicot
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness

 



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