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poem for pastors

tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
laissez-moi se déplacer lentement par la rue
au-dessus du fleuve ils montrent à moi
tous en dedans et tous sans moi
exister de cygne
quand le vent fonctionne contre nous dans l'obscurité
trois jours je les ai entendus s'affliger quand je m'étends complètement

 



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