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lost love poem

quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
un orage monte sur la marée
peut-être
tristement parlant
les nuances de la nuit tombaient rapidement
ne soyez pas fâché avec moi
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
j'aime les vieilles configurations melodious
et comment avez osé vous rêve de la réunion
peu de parc que je traverse
améliorez que le granit
comme lui à qui esprit dans la flamme du midi
dites-moi pas

 



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