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african american poetry

une pensée gentiment solennelle
les voûtes du pont rouge
dans ma main je me tiens
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
j'ai vu les nuages parmi les collines
quand absence de sa taille de montagne
homme froid sévère
je fais ma monture, mais personne ne sait
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
ils dans le rassemblement d'obscurité et demandent
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir
pourrions nous mais savoir

 



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