• • Scarleen

    Vendredi 19 Juillet à 16:14
    

    poéme gotik

    Monks who came to us from Gothic horizons, But whose soul, but whose spirit dies tomorrow, Who relegate love to your mystical gardens To purify it of all human pride, Firm, you advance along the roads of men, Eyes hallucinated by the fires of hell, From ancient times to this day, In the ages of silver and centuries of iron, Always with the same priestly and broad step. Only you survive tall in the dead Christian world, Alone without bending your back you carry the load Like a royal corpse at the bottom of a golden coffin. Monks – oh! seekers of sublime chimeras Your cries of eternity cross the tombs, Your mind is haunted by the glow of the peaks, You are the bearers of crosses and torches Around the divine ideal that we bury.

    

kikou bon lundi

jolie new semaine

 gros bisous

bradley et gladys

Scarleen