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family poetry

allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
ce qui était lui les moteurs dits
aucune proie ne suis moi des pensées faibles
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
mais alas, rêves justes
et comment avez osé vous rêve de la réunion
tous ces trésors qui se trouvent
certains des maux que vous avez traités
désolé et seul
je dois dire bonne nuit
comment j'aidez vers la droite le monde qui tourne mal
vous a fait entendent parler jamais

 



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