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funeral poem

un mot de vol d'ici et là
j'ai vu la première poire
je n'ai jamais su que la terre a eu tellement l'or
l'aube était vert pomme
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
pour vêtir la pensée ardente
j'aime les vieilles configurations melodious
clair de lune profond et tendre
peu de parc que je traverse

 



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