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love poems

bruits qui tâchent de déchirer
si je meurs, pensez seulement ceci ŕ moi
pourquoi si triste mon bel?
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
il est venu me prendre par la main
je vous attends
ŕ partir du sud ŕ la coupure du jour
quand vous venez ce soir
exprimons nos passions plus basses
environ porté plainte au maître
l'obscurité roule vers le haut

 



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