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mom poem

nous cassons le verre dont le vin sacré
passé persistant de thou
pour puis en dehors
vous êtes beau et fané
je l'aime
quand vous venez ce soir
une pensée gentiment solennelle
substance de la lune
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
nuit mystérieuse
vous a fait entendent parler jamais
se reposer dans son culbuteur attendant votre thé

 



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