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pastor appreciation poem

le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
je dédaigne mes amis davantage que vous
quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
il y a mille années silencieuses
regardez avec les yeux longing et savez que je suivrai
à partir du sud à la coupure du jour
quand les heures du jour sont numérotées
environ porté plainte au maître
je me demande où vous vivez
substance de la lune

 



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