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haiku poem

gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
polit le dernier âge, le prochain avec espoir est vu
levé des morts
j'ai dit
fait longtemps polir la lumière du soleil d'été
juste en tant que mes doigts sur ces clefs
j'ai eu une crainte dans ma vie
et mon nom est véridique
je ne puis pas vous dire maintenant

 



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