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teenage love poem

je ne prie pas pour la paix
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
si j'avais su l'étroit une prison est amour
il y avait un temps en anciennes années
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
j'ai vu les étoiles les plus fières
sous la barre du guerrier
babylon -- oĂą je vais rĂŞver
à l'amoureux passionné
stand ici par mon côté
c'était l'automne de l'année
il aurait mĂŞme sa plaisanterie

 



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