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dark poetry

ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit
peut-être
j'ai regardé sur le ciel glorieux
le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles
short et doux, et nous sommes arrivés à la fin de lui
doux et fort
la agonie d'avoir trop de puissance
qui est le coureur dans les cieux
je ne prie pas pour la paix
les ombres des bateaux
j'ai vu la première poire

 



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