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thanksgiving poem

pourrions nous mais savoir
les bateaux se situent dans le compartiment
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
un orage monte sur la marée
comment sauvage, comment sorcière-comme étrange qui la vie devrait être
mais je ne puis pas vous lire maintenant
l'obscurité roule vers le haut
de la chanson et du rêve pour jamais allé

 



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