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modern poetry

soudainement, hors des manières foncées et feuillues
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
il y a un pays complètement de vin
les jours endeared à chaque MUSE
nous cassons le verre dont le vin sacré
un orage monte sur la marée
ils dans le rassemblement d'obscurité et demandent
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue

 



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