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thanksgiving poem

dans toutes les choses non parlées de
le soleil et vent et battement de mer
en matins nuage-gris
ces coeurs ont été tissés des joies et des soins humains
j'ai vu qu'un dieu vous doutent de lui?
doux comme lit dans la terre
une brume entraînait une réduction
hors de moi indigne et inconnu
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
avant le saint en bronze solennel

 



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