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modern poetry

il y a mille années silencieuses
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
hors de moi indigne et inconnu
le pré rampait
roses et or
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
regardez avec les yeux longing et savez que je suivrai
le soleil et vent et battement de mer
je n'ai jamais su que la terre a eu tellement l'or
pensées par ma tête
ce qui était lui les moteurs dits
les vieilles chansons

 



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