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wedding poetry

il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi
contre la flamme verte de l'aubépine-arbre
il est venu me prendre par la main
le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles
sous la barre du guerrier
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
pour ces bras blancs au sujet de mon cou
les petites prières blanches

 



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