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friend poem

êtes vous vivant?
je suis vieux et aveugle
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
tressé et tissé
j'ai vu la première poire
hors du profond et de l'obscurité
quand un contrat est fait pour la liberté
pourquoi si triste mon bel?
nuit mystérieuse

 



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