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short poem

la foudre a clignoté, et s'est soulevée
maintenant que je me suis refroidi à vous
les vieilles chansons
nous avons aucune honte?
elle pourrait l'avoir su en ressort premier
un oiseau a chanté
à partir du sud à la coupure du jour
en septembre
je ne brûle aucun encens
je sais ce que vous allez dire
quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
avec les yeux doux et bruns
en tant qu'elle

 



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