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poem for dad

tressé et tissé
fait longtemps polir la lumière du soleil d'été
tous en baisse les années
un oiseau a chanté
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
frère, je suis le feu
écoutez la mer retentissante
l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille après feuille
les cieux qu'ils étaient ashen et sobre
tandis que je tenais l'écoute, discrètement sourde-muette

 



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