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religious poem

les vérités terribles ceux-ci soient
là par la fenêtre dans la vieille maison
je descends les chemins de jardin
mi plaisirs et palais bien que nous puissions errer
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
je vois tous les esprits humains
hors de moi indigne et inconnu
les nuances de la nuit tombaient rapidement
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
laissez une subsistance de joie vous
gloom
robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler
les jours hypocrites
dans le port de New York

 



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