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retirement poem

c'était l'automne de l'année
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
un dieu
maintenant que je me suis refroidi à vous
je me demande parfois s'il est vraiment vrai
regarder là-bas
j'ai vu les archangels dans mon pomme-arbre la nuit passée
nous avons aucune honte?
nous nous étendons
les étoiles sont tombées du ciel
sans aucun doute je me rappelle toujours
je les ai entendus la nuit
la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi

 



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