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good bye poem

pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
tous en dedans et tous sans moi
ils ont jeté une pierre, vous ont jeté une pierre
une pensée gentiment solennelle
pour ces bras blancs au sujet de mon cou
un avec vous
et avec l'oiseau de ronflement
soyez patient, la vie, quand l'amour est à la porte
êtes vous éveillé?

 



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