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lost love poem

je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
vous êtes beau et fané
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
dans la sphère
une fois ce gazon mou
frère, je suis le feu
tressé et tissé
monde qui change sous ma main
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
bonne femme
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
les bateaux se situent dans le compartiment
de nos endroits cachés
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort

 



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