Sharpshooter Poem by Pierre Rausch

An obscure sadness, obscurity of
which she did not know a secret
Her epaults hiding her great coat
Was that the charioteer of destiny
And he intrusted this task to be fiasco
No longer a tradition, no longer a
dare-devil
He idolized him
Target and posture
With acclamation, video
Severely regarded by others
Saluted by some
We think to pose
We owe to fight
Hasn't arrived yet
When daylight becomes a danger
The state of some case
His frog-green epaulets
We owe to fight
The school uniform of Brienne
Superfluous
We think to pose
Under weak points
Under a three-cornered hat
(Of being the chief person there)