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mother daughter poem

son visage est juste et lisse et bon
quelle chance spiteful vole des unawares
le long d'une rive
je vois tous les esprits humains
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
souffleur de verre de temps
la foudre a clignoté, et s'est soulevée
dossier une nuit de vol

 



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