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pumpkin poem

je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
substance de la lune
j'étais une déesse avant que le marbre m'ait trouvé
comme bougie blanche
de la chanson et du rêve pour jamais allé
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
tranquillement, avec le reverance, dans la crainte
filles de temps
foncé-eyed
levé des morts
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
une petite pêche dans le verger s'est développée

 



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