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broken heart poem

quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
c'est l'arsenal
truely
maintenant pour un combat vif et gai
quelques jours plus venteux
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
peut-être
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
se reposer dans son culbuteur attendant votre thé
je suis le vent qui hésite

 



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