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brother poem

qui aime la pluie
juste en tant que mes doigts sur ces clefs
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
parmi les montagnes j'ai erré
je dois dire bonne nuit
je sais ce que vous allez dire
exister de cygne
pourquoi
la étoile-poussière et lumière vaporeuse
vous faites entendre

 



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