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father poem

les drowses pâles de jour sur l'occidental trempent
tous ces trésors qui se trouvent
comme bougie blanche
doucement pleurant
environ porté plainte au maître
nous qui se sont tenus
en ce moment
doucement maintenant la lumière du jour
pourquoi
je me tiens par temps gris froid
le corps peut confiner
il y avait un temps en anciennes années

 



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