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acrostic poem

je sais ce que vous allez dire
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
je vois tous les esprits humains
hors du profond et de l'obscurité
un regard est mais un rayon
sous ma fenętre dans une rue de ville
le jour est fait
doux comme lit dans la terre
le pré rampait
c'est l'arsenal

 



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