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modern poetry

je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
ainsi tombé
short et doux, et nous sommes arrivés à la fin de lui
j'aime mon heure de vent et de lumière
tressé et tissé
nous avons aucune honte?
affligez-vous pas pour l'invisible
ils dans le rassemblement d'obscurité et demandent
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
j'aime voler pendant quelque temps loin

 



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