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poem for pastors

il est venu me prendre par la main
les ombres des bateaux
j'ai vu que vous hunched et tremblant sur les pierres
levé des morts
le soleil est vers le haut
elle a un espace libre, loveliness vent-abrité
à travers He va
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
sous ma fenêtre dans une rue de ville

 



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