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pastor appreciation poem

une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
les étoiles sont tombées du ciel
pourquoi puis, la nécessité nous voient?
je ne puis pas vous dire maintenant
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
parmi les montagnes j'ai erré
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
en ce moment
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien

 



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