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christian poem

roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
voici se trouver une dame la plus belle
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
ne soyez pas fâché avec moi
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
bien que je sois peu en tant que toutes les petites choses
parmi les montagnes j'ai erré
et avec l'oiseau de ronflement
le mouvement de votre corps est comme la musique
un orage monte sur la marée

 



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