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son poem

il aurait même sa plaisanterie
dernier minuit
qui appellera le vent
ami, dont le sourire est venu pour être
jusqu'à sa fenêtre de chambre
bien que je sois peu en tant que toutes les petites choses
les chansons antiques
à travers He va
l'obscurité vole les formes de toutes les reines
mi plaisirs et palais bien que nous puissions errer
donc je ne puis pas
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
les jours hypocrites
regardez dehors sur les étoiles, mon amour

 



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