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sad death poem

indéfiniment
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
il y a trois manières dont les hommes prennent
faites les garçons et les filles vont toujours
quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
les vieilles chansons
hors de la fenĂŞtre une mer des arbres verts
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
par le rivage, par la mer
filles de temps
un orage monte sur la marée
il y a un pays complètement de vin
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes

 



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