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sad death poem

dans une vieille chambre s'est doucement allumé
quand vous venez ce soir
elle doit retourner, elle a dit
le plus triste de l'année
il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
je réside à la montagne de table
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
oranges de plumaison nubian bleu-noires
je suis allé à travers les rues
ils dans le rassemblement d'obscurité et demandent
vous faites ne pas entendre

 



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