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sympathy poem

élever, comme vent a soufflé
si perdu
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
c'est le bateau de la perle
écoutez
un orage monte sur la marée
avec la joie et la merveille
au-dessus du fleuve ils montrent à moi
vous faites ne pas entendre
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
une pensée gentiment solennelle

 



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