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spanish poem

il est venu me prendre par la main
il y a mille années silencieuses
par le pont grossier
pourquoi puis, la nécessité nous voient?
en matins nuage-gris
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
je sais pas où
babylon -- où je vais rêver
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques


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