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fall poetry

les petites prières blanches
quand j'ai regardé dans vos yeux
écoutez la mer retentissante
vous êtes clair
ce qui était lui les moteurs dits
tous ces trésors qui se trouvent
je me suis tenu
là où je trouvez-vous
le pré rampait
il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler
pourquoi si triste mon bel?

 



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