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brother poem

bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
quand je suis retourné au coucher du soleil
hors de la fenętre une mer des arbres verts
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
gaily par les champs nous avons dansé

 



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