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daughter poem

avant le saint en bronze solennel
ombres étendues le long de broadway
ne soyez pas fâché avec moi
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles
par le rivage, par la mer
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
tous en baisse les années
un dieu

 



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