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sad poetry

un mot de vol d'ici et lĂ 
l'obscurité vole les formes de toutes les reines
l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille après feuille
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
améliorez que le granit
simplement parlant
je ne puis pas vous dire maintenant
leurs beaux cheveux
sous ma fenĂŞtre dans une rue de ville
dans l'obscurité et la paix de mon lit final
la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi
un stylo d'acier

 



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