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black poetry

nous n'étions pas beaucoup
c'est l'arsenal
ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
doucement maintenant la lumière du jour
il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles
la étoile-poussière et lumière vaporeuse
hauts murs et énorme
du soleil ni des étoiles

 



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