'...qu'une terre polaire'
The frost wears the sun
Which slides further each day,
Its eyes heavy with ice.
The apex winds a gentler and gentler hill
Until one rising
Wet and slippery
The star missteps
And plummets the earth
Into white crystal
And clear string.
All the glass darkened
Looks cold and shivers
Beneath them is still warmth
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem