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friend poem

doux comme lit dans la terre
dans des nombres mournful
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
maintenant pour un combat vif et gai
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
ne soyez pas faux
il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
nous cassons le verre dont le vin sacré
en septembre
elle a dit
les jours endeared à chaque MUSE
hors de la fenêtre une mer des arbres verts
laissez le bel unsaid de mots
les nuances de la nuit tombaient rapidement

 



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