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poetry in motion

tous ces trésors qui se trouvent
qui appellera le vent
à ce qui une femme la comparera aimée
avec le coucher du soleil
elle pourrait l'avoir su en ressort premier
jusqu'à sa fenêtre de chambre
voici ne tomber aucune lumière
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
vous avez marche vue par le village
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte
quand absence de sa taille de montagne
un mille derrière

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

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