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poem and quote

la noblesse de la mort encore
comme un homme nu je vont
aimez-moi enfin, ou si vous pas
fleurs des bébés
la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi
le poing serré simple soulevé et préparent
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
volonté vous miroitez sur la mer?
le mystère le plus foncé et le plus étrange
quand je suis retourné au coucher du soleil
je me demande parfois s'il est vraiment vrai

 



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  • Let the festivities begin (Mail and Guardian)
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