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short poem

je vous chante
de nos endroits cachés
contre la flamme verte de l'aubépine-arbre
peut-ętre
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas
les longs couloirs de marbre resounding
quand le voile des yeux est soulevé
beaux, tragical visages
exister de cygne
j'ai gagné la course
aimez-moi enfin, ou si vous pas
lŕ par la fenętre dans la vieille maison
comme un homme nu je vont

 



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