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elements of poetry

mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
je suis las d'ętre amer et las d'ętre sage
quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
avant le saint en bronze solennel
lŕ par la fenętre dans la vieille maison
je sais ce que vous allez dire
j'ai entendu qu'une certaine princesse
pour ces bras blancs au sujet de mon cou
tous ces trésors qui se trouvent
j'aime les vieilles configurations melodious
tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour

 



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