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inspirational poem

quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
les petites prières blanches
quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas
complètement des larmes
j'ai entendu le vent toute la journée
si je meurs, pensez seulement ceci à moi
ce qui je vous doivent
tressé et tissé
tranquillement, avec le reverance, dans la crainte

 



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