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family poetry

tandis que je tenais l'écoute, discrètement sourde-muette
un stylo d'acier
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
le poing serré simple soulevé et préparent
le mystère le plus foncé et le plus étrange
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
c'était l'automne de l'année
hors de la mer de scintillement
sous la barre du guerrier
comme lui à qui esprit dans la flamme du midi
vous faites entendre

 



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