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epic poetry

l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée
au-dessus du fleuve, sur la colline
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
un avec vous
le vieil ouest, le vieux temps
vous dites que vous m'aimez
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte

 



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