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narrative poetry

roses et or
l'obscurité
il y avait un temps en anciennes années
j'ai dit
ces yeux noirs i une fois ainsi félicité
je me tiens par temps gris froid
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
vous faites entendre
il est allé
au-dessus du fleuve, sur la colline
je ne brûle aucun encens

 



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