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romantic poem

ville qui n'est pas une ville
quand, plein de l'amour chaud et désireux
splendide et terrible votre amour
je fais ma monture, mais personne ne sait
quand absence de sa taille de montagne
dans votre vol
avec ses cheveux flaying d'une manière extravagante
doucement pleurant
le pré rampait
voici se trouver une dame la plus belle
je meurs
la noblesse de la mort encore
là par la fenêtre dans la vieille maison
pour pouvoir voir chaque côté de chaque question

 



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