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dark poetry

voyez, ils retournent
clair de lune profond et tendre
c'était l'automne de l'année
les voûtes du pont rouge
j'ai vu qu'un dieu vous doutent de lui?
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
ont eu lui et I mais réuni
en matins nuage-gris
en tant qu'elle
laissez-nous pitié ceux outre dont soyez meilleur que nous sont

 



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