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thank you poem

quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
souffleur de verre de temps
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
écoutez la mer retentissante
donnez-moi
pourrions nous mais savoir
avec le rouge de sang de lèvres et le coeur de la pierre

 



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