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pumpkin poem

comment j'aidez vers la droite le monde qui tourne mal
le ciel
il y avait un temps en anciennes années
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir
seule
vous êtes mon compagnon
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles
l'aube était vert pomme
nous n'étions pas beaucoup
tressé et tissé
ce qui conserve
je réside à la montagne de table
monde qui change sous ma main
j'aime voler pendant quelque temps loin

 



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