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memorial poem

quelle chance spiteful vole des unawares
qui appellera le vent
quand j'étais un garçon à l'université
s'est levé et l'ambre était le coucher du soleil sur le fleuve
et ils marchaient toujours dessus
je vois tous les esprits humains
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
foncé-eyed
oranges de plumaison nubian bleu-noires
ne tournez pas votre tête

 



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