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child poem

frère, je suis le feu
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
dans des nombres mournful
complètement des larmes
dans l'obscurité et la paix de mon lit final
les voûtes du pont rouge
l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille après feuille
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
quand un contrat est fait pour la liberté
enveloppez la terre par temps nuageux

 



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