Rien De Pire, Il N'y En A Rien. Poem by Michael Walker
Rien De Pire, Il N'y En A Rien.
Il n'y a rien de pire, il n'y a rien. Jete au-dela de la douleur,
Plus d'angoisses, enseignees par des angoisses d'avant, arrachent plus furieux.
Monday, August 13, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: sorrow
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8/29/2026 4:58:17 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
