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lyric poem

il y a trois manières dont les hommes prennent
sous la lune de moisson
j'ai regardé sur le ciel glorieux
dans la sphère
si je meurs, pensez seulement ceci à moi
ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
ainsi tombé
je me demande où vous vivez
pensées par ma tête
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
j'ai su le silence des étoiles et de la mer
pour pouvoir voir chaque côté de chaque question
le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles

 



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