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grandmother poem

frère, je suis le feu
ainsi tombé
beaux, tragical visages
treize ans toujours
filles de temps
la agonie d'avoir trop de puissance
vous dites que vous m'aimez
dans la terre silencieuse
près d'un champ en détresse
la pluie plus de, et l'air brillant
behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
voici ne tomber aucune lumière
vous a fait entendent parler jamais

 



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