Skip navigation

Mais, vrai, j’ai trop pleuré! Les Aubes sont navrantes.

Toute lune est atroce et tout soleil amer:

L’acre amour m’a gonflé de torpeurs enivrantes.

O que ma quille éclate! O que j’aille à la mer!

 

alba(tende e alba)

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: