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friend poem

mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
quand le vent fonctionne contre nous dans l'obscurité
j'ai vu les archangels dans mon pomme-arbre la nuit passée
ces yeux noirs i une fois ainsi félicité
tranquillement, avec le reverance, dans la crainte
pourrions nous mais savoir
et mon nom est véridique
en matins nuage-gris

 



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