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halloween poem

qui aime la pluie
je suis le vent qui hésite
quand un contrat est fait pour la liberté
sous la barre du guerrier
apportez-moi la chanson douce
dans votre vol
hors de la fenêtre une mer des arbres verts
avant le saint en bronze solennel
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
regarder là-bas
si je meurs, pensez seulement ceci à moi
allé avant nous
là où je trouvez-vous

 



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