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footprint poem

mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
bonne femme
tranquillement, avec le reverance, dans la crainte
les vérités terribles ceux-ci soient
la foudre a clignoté, et s'est soulevée
je vous attends
pour la vérité, pour l'amour
je descends les chemins de jardin
quand j'ai regardé dans vos yeux
le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles
je suis vieux et aveugle
comme je me trouve couvert dedans, examiné dedans
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main

 



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