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dites-moi
mais je ne puis pas vous lire maintenant
bonne femme
les chansons antiques
fait longtemps polir la lumière du soleil d'été
elle a éclaté le vin féroce
bruits qui tâchent de déchirer
une pensée gentiment solennelle
je fais ma monture, mais personne ne sait
j'ai vu avec les yeux ouverts
j'étais une déesse avant que le marbre m'ait trouvé
volonté vous miroitez sur la mer?
peu de parc que je traverse

 



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