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sad love poem

le mystère le plus foncé et le plus étrange
la étoile-poussière et lumière vaporeuse
voici ne tomber aucune lumière
je me suis tenu prêt le tissu pour rideaux ouvert
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
dans votre vol
donc je ne puis pas
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée
indéfiniment
quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
nous nous étendons

 



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