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lyric poem

se reposer dans son culbuteur attendant votre thé
mélancolie, bleu il était
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
les longs couloirs de marbre resounding
quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
homme froid sévère
vous vous rappelez
dans le port de New York
tous en dedans et tous sans moi
une fois ce gazon mou
tous apaisent le long du potomac
voici ne tomber aucune lumière

 



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