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black poetry

un mot de vol d'ici et lĂ 
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
je sais pas oĂą
les ombres des bateaux
clair de lune profond et tendre
je me demande oĂą vous vivez
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave
éliminer, luttant vainly
en ce moment

 



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