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wedding poem

sommeil, frère gris de la mort
il y a trois ans d'aujourd'hui
le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles
c'était l'automne de l'année
faites les garçons et les filles vont toujours
ce que je souhaite remarquer
j'ai jeté mon âme à l'air comme un vol de faucon
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
beaux, tragical visages

 



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