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sad death poem

nous n'étions pas beaucoup
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
il est allé
avec les yeux doux et bruns
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
comme je me trouve couvert dedans, examiné dedans
les voûtes du pont rouge
quand je suis retourné au coucher du soleil
deux rangées des choux
elle était beaucoup et beaucoup d'il y a une année

 



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