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￭ You are 
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2006-07-18 | [This text should be read in francais] | Submited by FROSIN Constantin
J’arrête, je n’écris plus…
Du vin, une cigarette – Autant d’après-midi s’en vont Comme une sensation imparfaite. Ce qui importe, pourtant, toujours, Ailleurs, ou chez moi, poète – Autant d’après-midi s’en vont Comme une sensation imparfaite. (Traduction : Constantin Frosin)
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