Darkness, like a shaggy dog.
Look, it's already September,
time to light the stove.
The garden became sad and suddenly old.
It was supposed to be ?
Your bus was coming.
I know it's already late.
Come back to the warm circle under the lamps.
To the wardrobe, coat.
Apple the house smells like kami.
Sitting down, soaked poet,
finish this extraordinary poem of yours.
An empty page and only the stub of the candle again.
I bought something for you today I have this green scarf.
The last apples from the trees are being knocked down by the wind,
and I was about to pick them.
I have too little of you.
I have several I'll pass,
that's all.

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