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sad poem

cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
je remplis cette tasse
doux et fort
écoutez la mer retentissante
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
maintenant tandis que mes lèvres vivent
homme froid sévère
jusqu'Ă  sa fenĂŞtre de chambre
les nuances de la nuit tombaient rapidement
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles
quand le vent fonctionne contre nous dans l'obscurité
pourquoi puis, la nécessité nous voient?
tout mon amour pour mon bonbon
vieux vin Ă  boire

 



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