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funeral poem

la dame, votre coeur s'est tournée vers la poussière
comme des aigles sur la haute haute
tous apaisent le long du potomac
le long d'une rive
à minuit
j'ai vu que vous hunched et tremblant sur les pierres
un mille derrière
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
à travers He va
près d'un champ en détresse
maintenant pour un combat vif et gai
dernier minuit

 



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