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mother poem

sous la barre du guerrier
mi plaisirs et palais bien que nous puissions errer
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave
mélancolie, bleu il était
la étoile-poussière et lumière vaporeuse
le mouvement de votre corps est comme la musique
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
contre la flamme verte de l'aubépine-arbre
pensées par ma tête


 



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