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sad poem

dans leurs regimentals loqueteux
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
et comment avez osé vous rêve de la réunion
comment j'aidez vers la droite le monde qui tourne mal
une pensée gentiment solennelle
ne soyez pas fâché avec moi
souvent je pense à la belle ville
les étoiles sont tombées du ciel
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares

 



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