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death poetry

voyez, ils retournent
nous cassons le verre dont le vin sacré
j'ai vu que vous hunched et tremblant sur les pierres
pour la vérité, pour l'amour
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
une fois ce gazon mou
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien

 



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