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angel poem

il est allé
clair de lune profond et tendre
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée
en dessous de cette tombe modeste un conqueror se trouve
laissez-moi ĂŞtre triste
un stylo d'acier
j'au-dessus-avais préparé l'événement
je suis le vent qui hésite
basculé dans le berceau du profond
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave
simplement parlant
et pendant que nous marchions l'herbe a été faiblement remuée
dans leurs regimentals loqueteux

 



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