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poetry poem

il y avait un strangeness sur vos lèvres
fleurs des bébés
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
un orage monte sur la marée
short et doux, et nous sommes arrivés à la fin de lui
quand, plein de l'amour chaud et désireux
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
je la pense splendide juste
à partir du sud à la coupure du jour

 



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