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friend poetry

il n'y a aucune évasion par le fleuve
comme lui à qui esprit dans la flamme du midi
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
qui appellera le vent
je me demande parfois s'il est vraiment vrai
aimez-moi enfin, ou si vous pas
monde qui change sous ma main
quand absence de sa taille de montagne

 



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