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death poem

si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
deux rangées des choux
le soleil a fait un pas vers le bas de son trĂ´ne d'or
ne vous affligez pas qu'elle plus de
dans l'obscurité et la paix de mon lit final
j'ai entendu le vent toute la journée
quand les heures du jour sont numérotées
les petites prières blanches
tandis que je tenais l'écoute, discrètement sourde-muette
en ce moment
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles
maintenant pour un combat vif et gai

 



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