Poems by Pierre Lièvre

I TELL you true, it is not you I love,
It is not you for whom my spirit pines..
If in my eyes...

WHERE orange lanterns light the gravel walk,
And rust the leaves of chestnut trees, belated
D...

As tired women languorously undress,
Summer divests her, breathing roses' scent;
The mirror ...

MY fingers squeeze your fat, bent neck, and while
Your chignon yields and of itself falls down...

WHEN to my powdered breasts I bent his brow,
How his voice trembled desperately! Surprise
Melt...