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grandmother poem

plantons
hors du profond et de l'obscurité
je sais pas où
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
la nuit était noire et triste
aimez-moi enfin, ou si vous pas
les jours endeared à chaque MUSE
dans sa tente gardée
j'aime ma vie, mais pas trop bien
sous la feuille sombre de laurier
je suis las d'être amer et las d'être sage
il y avait un temps en anciennes années

 



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