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autumn poem

pourquoi
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
dans toutes les choses non parlées de
l'aube était vert pomme
chère épouse
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
vécu à côté de la rive
la dame, votre coeur s'est tournée vers la poussière
écoutez
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune

 



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