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lost love poem

sous la feuille sombre de laurier
hors de la fenêtre une mer des arbres verts
qui appellera le vent
frère, je suis le feu
chantez-encore à la chanson vous chanté
tranquillement, avec le reverance, dans la crainte
dans sa tente gardée
je sais pas où
hauts murs et énorme
nous cassons le verre dont le vin sacré
la étoile-poussière et lumière vaporeuse
indéfiniment
le mouvement de votre corps est comme la musique
le vieil ouest, le vieux temps

 



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