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sad poem

au-dessus d'elles toutes, regardant vers le bas
et ils marchaient toujours dessus
quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
j'ai entendu le vent toute la journée
ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
sous la feuille sombre de laurier
polit le dernier âge, le prochain avec espoir est vu
j'ai regardé sur le ciel glorieux
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
pour pouvoir voir chaque côté de chaque question

 



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