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juste en tant que mes doigts sur ces clefs
serene d'après-midi et lumineux verts
dans une vieille chambre s'est doucement allumé
nuit mystérieuse
quand le voile des yeux est soulevé
dans l'obscurité et la paix de mon lit final
je meurs
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
exister de cygne
pour puis en dehors
une brume entraînait une réduction

 



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