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modern poetry

sommeil, frère gris de la mort
mi plaisirs et palais bien que nous puissions errer
à l'aube, il a dit
et avec l'oiseau de ronflement
le corps peut confiner
j'ai vu qu'un dieu vous doutent de lui?
êtes vous vivant?
son visage est juste et lisse et bon
doux comme lit dans la terre
dans sa tente gardée
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
j'ai regardé sur le ciel glorieux
un oiseau a chanté
bas! 'tis par nuit de gala

 



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