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math poem

c'est la chanson de la jeunesse
quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
ville qui n'est pas une ville
nous qui se sont tenus
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
je fais ma monture, mais personne ne sait
le mouvement de votre corps est comme la musique
les jours mélancoliques sont venus
soyez dans moi comme modes éternels
mais je ne puis pas vous lire maintenant
les petites prières blanches
son visage est juste et lisse et bon

 



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