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funeral poem

course haut-soutenue
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
près d'un champ en détresse
ce compagnon étrange est venu sur brouiller des pieds
ceux-ci soient
avec ses cheveux flaying d'une manière extravagante
s'il
l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille après feuille
quand je suis retourné au coucher du soleil
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
comme un homme nu je vont
clair de lune profond et tendre
gloom
je suis le vent qui hésite

 



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