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angel poem

je me demande parfois s'il est vraiment vrai
à certains les gros dieux
basculé dans le berceau du profond
je me tiens par temps gris froid
nous nous étendons
vous êtes beau et fané
quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
exister de cygne
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
le soleil et vent et battement de mer
elle a entendu les enfants jouer au soleil
elle connaît un dégagement bon marché
il y a une heure du repos paisible

 



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