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graduation poem

nuit mystérieuse
pour ces bras blancs au sujet de mon cou
filles de temps
l'aube était vert pomme
il aurait męme sa plaisanterie
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
ŕ minuit
juste en tant que mes doigts sur ces clefs
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
si j'avais su l'étroit une prison est amour
qui aime la pluie

 



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