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prose poetry

il y a une heure du repos paisible
voyez, de cette contrefaçon de lui
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
bruits qui tâchent de déchirer
désolé et seul
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
là où je trouvez-vous
si j'étais très sûr
vous avez marche vue par le village
éliminer, luttant vainly
je suis vieux et aveugle
il y avait un temps en anciennes années
à certains les gros dieux


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