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type of poetry

descendu à l'aube des collines windless
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
il y a mille années silencieuses
comment sauvage, comment sorcière-comme étrange qui la vie devrait être
j'ai vu avec les yeux ouverts
behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
pour la vérité, pour l'amour
dans les halls du sommeil vous avez erré près
s'est levé et l'ambre était le coucher du soleil sur le fleuve

 



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