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grandma poem

ne soyez pas fâché avec moi
à partir des prés riches avec du maïs
la étoile-poussière et lumière vaporeuse
laissez-moi se déplacer lentement par la rue
ne soyez pas faux
laissez le bel unsaid de mots
babylon -- où je vais rêver
splendor doux
souvent je pense à la belle ville
nous n'étions pas beaucoup
ceux-ci soient
une histoire très remarquable ceci est
la noblesse de la mort encore

 



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