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concrete poetry

vous avez marche vue par le village
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
tristement parlant
quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
dans des nombres mournful
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit
ce qui conserve
je suis le vent qui hésite
si perdu
polit le dernier âge, le prochain avec espoir est vu
j'ai eu une crainte dans ma vie
le jour est fait

 



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