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poem for pastors

mélancolie, bleu il était
soyez dans moi comme modes éternels
c'était l'automne de l'année
je suis le vent qui hésite
j'ai vu les étoiles les plus fières
ne restez pas plus
tous apaisent le long du potomac
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
l'obscurité vole les formes de toutes les reines

 



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