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thank you poem

vieux vin à boire
du soleil ni des étoiles
je dois dire bonne nuit
la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
un orage monte sur la marée
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
dans les halls du sommeil vous avez erré près
comme égaliser tombe
vous êtes clair
ne restez pas plus


 



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