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lyric poem

il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
pour vêtir la pensée ardente
qui appellera le vent
si j'avais su l'étroit une prison est amour
il y a d'un que ce I par le passé a aimé tellement
j'ai vu qu'un dieu vous doutent de lui?
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
tous ces trésors qui se trouvent
là par la fenêtre dans la vieille maison

 



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