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anniversary poem

j'aime mon heure de vent et de lumire
je la pense splendide juste
juste en tant que mes doigts sur ces clefs
ainsi tomb
je suis vieux et aveugle
penses par ma tte
je meurs
il y a un pays compltement de vin
je ne puis pas vous dire maintenant
tandis que je tenais l'coute, discrtement sourde-muette

 



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