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religious poem

pour vętir la pensée ardente
certains des maux que vous avez traités
la noblesse de la mort encore
exister de cygne
bien que je sois peu en tant que toutes les petites choses
sous la feuille sombre de laurier
behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
j'ai aimé une femme
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
je ne prie pas pour la paix
j'aime ma vie, mais pas trop bien
dans une vieille chambre s'est doucement allumé
il n'y avait jamais un bruit prčs du bois mais d'un

 



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