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christian poem

robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
si j'étais très sûr
je suis las d'être amer et las d'être sage
avec le rouge de sang de lèvres et le coeur de la pierre
cette année
elle a éclaté le vin féroce
désolé et seul
hors de la fenêtre une mer des arbres verts

 



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