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concrete poetry

souffleur de verre de temps
descendu Ă  l'aube des collines windless
de nos endroits cachés
ils dans le rassemblement d'obscurité et demandent
les voûtes du pont rouge
je vous attends
l'aube était vert pomme
dites-moi
quand le voile des yeux est soulevé
ces yeux noirs i une fois ainsi félicité
j'ai vu les nuages parmi les collines
il y a trois manières dont les hommes prennent
les nuances de la nuit tombaient rapidement
j'aime ma vie, mais pas trop bien

 



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