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angel poem

par le rivage, par la mer
je meurs
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
ils ont jeté une pierre, vous ont jeté une pierre
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
je me demande oů vous vivez
j'ai vu que vous hunched et tremblant sur les pierres
je l'aime
je ne puis pas vous dire maintenant
ne soyez pas fâché avec moi
quand vous venez ce soir
hors de la mer de scintillement

 



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