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life poem

beau
je sais pas où
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
écoutez
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
je me tiens par temps gris froid
et pain de breaketh pas plus
serene d'après-midi et lumineux verts
homme froid sévère
la agonie d'avoir trop de puissance
au-dessus des dessus de toit emballez les ombres des nuages

 



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