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epic poetry

en ce moment
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
le long des banques
plantons
soyez patient, la vie, quand l'amour est à la porte
robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit
en matins nuage-gris
il est venu me prendre par la main
dans leurs regimentals loqueteux
maintenant pour un combat vif et gai
les nuances de la nuit tombaient rapidement
avec le coucher du soleil
se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas

 



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