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un orage monte sur la marée
le parfum est venu
pourquoi puis, la nécessité nous voient?
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte
vous vous rappelez
si perdu
je vous ai détesté
clair de lune profond et tendre
du plancher au plafond
il est venu me prendre par la main

 



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