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thank you poem

le parfum est venu
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
je suis le vent qui hésite
qui est le coureur dans les cieux
avant le saint en bronze solennel
ŕ minuit
pour la vérité, pour l'amour
est souvent il pas aussi?
cette année
en septembre
par le rivage, par la mer
souffleur de verre de temps
tout mon amour pour mon bonbon

 



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