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father poem

tous en baisse les années
la musique i entendu avec vous était plus que la musique
un stylo d'acier
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
dans les halls du sommeil vous avez erré près
par le pont grossier
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
orage
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
simplement parlant
hors de la fenêtre une mer des arbres verts
la pluie plus de, et l'air brillant
c'est la chanson de la jeunesse
doux et fort

 



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