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free online love poem

pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
il y a trois ans d'aujourd'hui
treize ans toujours
passé persistant de thou
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
j'ai vu les archangels dans mon pomme-arbre la nuit passée
la dame, votre coeur s'est tournée vers la poussière
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
nous avons aucune honte?

 



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