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angel poem

sous la feuille sombre de laurier
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
effrayé pas plus, je dis
soudainement, hors des manières foncées et feuillues
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
mais alas, rêves justes
vous êtes beau et fané
oiseaux contre le vent d'avril

 



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