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teacher poem

les jours endeared à chaque MUSE
tristement parlant
à minuit
la étoile-poussière et lumière vaporeuse
dans votre vol
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
vous faites entendre
seule
hors de la fenêtre une mer des arbres verts
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
le mystère le plus foncé et le plus étrange
quand le voile des yeux est soulevé
ce qui je vous doivent

 



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