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poetry poem

écoutez la mer retentissante
polit le dernier âge, le prochain avec espoir est vu
beau
je vous ai détesté
les jours hypocrites
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
si perdu
je ne brûle aucun encens
quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
pourrions nous mais savoir

 



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