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epic poetry

doux comme lit dans la terre
j'ai vu que vous hunched et tremblant sur les pierres
mais je ne puis pas vous lire maintenant
j'ai eu un ręve et je me suis réveillé avec lui
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
n'accrochez aucune guirlande
ŕ certains les gros dieux
gloom
les petites pričres blanches
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
nos moments plaisants volent
plantons

 



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