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retirement poem

je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
l'obscurité
indéfiniment
de nos endroits cachés
dans une vieille chambre s'est doucement allumé
son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
trois jours je les ai entendus s'affliger quand je m'étends complètement

 



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