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friend poetry

doucement pleurant
j'ai jeté mon âme à l'air comme un vol de faucon
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
travails de la terre
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
ils dans le rassemblement d'obscurité et demandent
il aurait mĂŞme sa plaisanterie
doucement maintenant la lumière du jour
nuit mystérieuse
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
pour venir tellement bientôt à ceci a imaginé l'obscurité

 



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