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mom poem

ne tournez pas votre tête
une petite pêche dans le verger s'est développée
jusqu'à sa fenêtre de chambre
bas! 'tis par nuit de gala
je dédaigne mes amis davantage que vous
mais je ne puis pas vous lire maintenant
nous qui se sont tenus
en dessous de cette tombe modeste un conqueror se trouve
j'aime mon heure de vent et de lumière
complètement des larmes
si je meurs, pensez seulement ceci à moi

 



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