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lyric poem

vous a fait entendent parler jamais
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
ombres à ailes balayant près
doucement pleurant
un oiseau a chanté
de nos endroits cachés
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
il aurait mĂŞme sa plaisanterie
laissez le bel unsaid de mots
la nuit passée la pleine lune a étendu un tissu de blanc

 



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