Rue 3 Poem by RAED WAHESH
Rue 3
À présent je crains les belles femmes plus que les postes de contrôle
Les obus et les avions de guerre
Le beau me renvoie aux élégies
Le beau est un cauchemar.
Ne me parle pas de la femme
Ne me dis pas : ses lèvres sont deux tranches de nectarine
Son sein est la cloche d'une église
Sa taille a la finesse d'une larme.
Moi je ne vois que son cadavre.
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9/18/2024 11:46:18 PM # 1.0.0.1119
