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friend poem

nous avons aucune honte?
il y avait de trois dans le pré par le ruisseau
la foudre a clignoté, et s'est soulevée
tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
s'est levé et l'ambre était le coucher du soleil sur le fleuve
sous la lune de moisson
c'était l'automne de l'année
il était un jeune oysterman grand
vous a fait entendent parler jamais
je suis fevered
dans sa tente gardée

 



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