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type of poem

dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
je suis le vent qui hésite
laissez une subsistance de joie vous
environ porté plainte au maître
musing, entre le coucher du soleil et l'obscurité
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
ce qui conserve
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
avec ses cheveux flaying d'une manière extravagante
comme lui à qui esprit dans la flamme du midi
chien de guingan et le chat de calicot
son visage est juste et lisse et bon

 



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