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mother poem

roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
avant le saint en bronze solennel
écoutez
comme bougie blanche
ombres à ailes balayant près
je les ai entendus la nuit
à l'amoureux passionné
avec le rouge de sang de lèvres et le coeur de la pierre
comment sauvage, comment sorcière-comme étrange qui la vie devrait être
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
je meurs
en matins nuage-gris
j'ai eu un rêve et je me suis réveillé avec lui
la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi

 



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