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funeral poem

musing, entre le coucher du soleil et l'obscurité
dans votre vol
doux comme lit dans la terre
êtes vous éveillé?
pourquoi faites-vous toujours stand tremblant là
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
jusqu'à sa fenêtre de chambre
ombres à ailes balayant près
à l'amoureux passionné
dites-moi pas

 



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