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i love you poem

l'obscurité
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte
au-dessus du fleuve ils montrent à moi
voyez que je me donne vous
l'air est comme un papillon
je réside à la montagne de table
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas
au-dessus du fleuve, sur la colline

 



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