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haiku poetry

il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
sous la lune de moisson
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir
avec le rouge de sang de lèvres et le coeur de la pierre
le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles
le vieil ouest, le vieux temps
un avec vous

 



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