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suicide poem

l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille après feuille
doux et fort
je descends les chemins de jardin
j'ai dit
là par la fenêtre dans la vieille maison
je remplis cette tasse
je me demande où vous vivez
sous la barre du guerrier
allé avant nous
êtes vous éveillé?
ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
ne soyez pas fâché avec moi
le mouvement de votre corps est comme la musique

 



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