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erotic poem

les petites pričres blanches
vous faites ne pas entendre
dernier minuit
pourquoi si triste mon bel?
course haut-soutenue
c'était l'automne de l'année
vous ętes beau et fané
filles de temps
y a il quiconque lŕ
je vois tous les esprits humains
et avec l'oiseau de ronflement
le soleil et vent et battement de mer
simplicité
il y a trois maničres dont les hommes prennent

 



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