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father poem

vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
écoutez
comme lui ŕ qui esprit dans la flamme du midi
dans ma main je me tiens
course haut-soutenue
je l'aime
et avec l'oiseau de ronflement
ŕ partir du sud ŕ la coupure du jour
je vous ai détesté
l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille aprčs feuille
gaily par les champs nous avons dansé
elle était une beauté en jours

 



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