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memorial poem

j'aime voler pendant quelque temps loin
quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
elle pourrait l'avoir su en ressort premier
levé des morts
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
je dois dire bonne nuit
doucement maintenant la lumière du jour

 



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