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fall poetry

treize ans toujours
juste en tant que mes doigts sur ces clefs
vous entendez la pluie?
au-dessus du fleuve ils montrent à moi
certains des maux que vous avez traités
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
le pré rampait
je ne prie pas pour la paix
comment j'aidez vers la droite le monde qui tourne mal
souvent je pense à la belle ville

 



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