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best love poem

quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
ne tournez pas votre tête
une brume entraînait une réduction
hors de la fenêtre une mer des arbres verts
nous n'étions pas beaucoup
démontré dans la lueur vacillante dans vos yeux
je me suis tenu prêt le tissu pour rideaux ouvert
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
vous êtes mon compagnon
je vais ma manière complacently

 



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