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marriage poem

je réside à la montagne de table
clair de lune profond et tendre
glooms des vivre-chênes
les cieux qu'ils étaient ashen et sobre
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
ainsi tombé
en matins nuage-gris
c'était l'automne de l'année
à minuit
une petite pêche dans le verger s'est développée

 



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