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memorial poem

il y a trois manières dont les hommes prennent
quand vous venez ce soir
je vois tous les esprits humains
sous ma fenêtre dans une rue de ville
en matins nuage-gris
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
comme des aigles sur la haute haute
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée
hauts murs et énorme
vous êtes clair
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire

 



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