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type of poetry

nous n'étions pas beaucoup
dans ma main je me tiens
soudainement, hors des manières foncées et feuillues
la musique i entendu avec vous était plus que la musique
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
à certains les gros dieux
comme un homme nu je vont
un dieu

 



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