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love poem

s'est levé et l'ambre était le coucher du soleil sur le fleuve
gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
il y a trois maničres dont les hommes prennent
roses et or
ŕ certains les gros dieux
ainsi tombé
ne vous affligez pas qu'elle plus de
doucement pleurant
beaux, tragical visages
se reposer dans son culbuteur attendant votre thé
c'est le bateau de la perle
tous en dedans et tous sans moi

 



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