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death poem

jusqu'à sa fenêtre de chambre
y a il quiconque là
tressé et tissé
doux comme lit dans la terre
une vie sur la vague d'océan
pourquoi si triste mon bel?
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
j'ai entendu le vent toute la journée
il était un jeune oysterman grand
j'ai regardé sur le ciel glorieux
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles
j'aime voler pendant quelque temps loin
en tant qu'elle

 



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