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poem for pastors

elle boite avec stopper le pas douloureux
il y a une heure du repos paisible
comme je me trouve couvert dedans, examiné dedans
la lune se levante a caché les étoiles
si j'étais très sûr
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
ils dans le rassemblement d'obscurité et demandent
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte
dernier minuit
un avec vous
un regard est mais un rayon

 



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