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grandmother poem

son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
quand les heures du jour sont numérotées
le parfum est venu
jamais dans toute ma vie
c'est la chanson de la jeunesse
un regard est mais un rayon
robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler
pour vêtir la pensée ardente
maintenant que je me suis refroidi Ă  vous
ont eu lui et I mais réuni
les étoiles sont tombées du ciel
indéfiniment

 



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