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narrative poetry

je les ai entendus la nuit
son visage est juste et lisse et bon
une pensée gentiment solennelle
les voûtes du pont rouge
et mon nom est véridique
pour pouvoir voir chaque côté de chaque question
quand absence de sa taille de montagne
sous ma fenêtre dans une rue de ville
vieux vin à boire
comme bougie blanche
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
splendor doux
je me demande où vous vivez
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles

 



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