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angel poem

puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
la pluie plus de, et l'air brillant
le parfum est venu
peut-ętre ce n'est aucune matičre que vous ętes morte
clair de lune profond et tendre
au-dessus d'elles toutes, regardant vers le bas
l'obscurité roule vers le haut
j'ai gagné la course
doucement pleurant
les petites pričres blanches
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes

 



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