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religious poem

orage
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
oiseaux contre le vent d'avril
quand un contrat est fait pour la liberté
pour vêtir la pensée ardente
la lumière retirée
le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles
le bonbon avec la fougère et s'est levé
comme je me trouve couvert dedans, examiné dedans

 



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