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death poetry

je vois tous les esprits humains
enveloppez la terre par temps nuageux
leurs beaux cheveux
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles
la lumière retirée
laissez-nous pitié ceux outre dont soyez meilleur que nous sont
tressé et tissé
le pré rampait
gaily par les champs nous avons dansé
je descends les chemins de jardin

 



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