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je ne prie pas pour la paix
clair de lune profond et tendre
avec ses cheveux flaying d'une manière extravagante
dans une vieille chambre s'est doucement allumé
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
laissez le bel unsaid de mots
serene d'après-midi et lumineux verts
je ne puis pas vous dire maintenant
il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
les petites prières blanches
qui appellera le vent
mais alas, rêves justes

 



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