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father poem

quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
truely
le long des banques
le vieil ouest, le vieux temps
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
la dame, votre coeur s'est tournée vers la poussière
je vous chante
la noblesse de la mort encore
dites-moi pas
les jours mélancoliques sont venus
près d'un champ en détresse
je l'ai vu une fois avant
éliminer, luttant vainly
comme des aigles sur la haute haute

 



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