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poem for dad

peu de porte a été atteinte enfin
fait longtemps polir la lumière du soleil d'été
je ne puis pas vous dire maintenant
j'ai jeté mon âme à l'air comme un vol de faucon
êtes vous vivant?
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
au-dessus des dessus de toit emballez les ombres des nuages

 



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