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footprint poem

un oiseau a chanté
peut-être
l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille après feuille
ne soyez pas faux
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
mais alas, rêves justes
le parfum est venu
levé des morts
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
je l'ai vu une fois avant
je dédaigne mes amis davantage que vous
les longs couloirs de marbre resounding
le vieil ouest, le vieux temps
le pré rampait

 



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