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autumn poetry

n'accrochez aucune guirlande
il y avait un temps en anciennes années
il est venu me prendre par la main
l'aube était vert pomme
tous en dedans et tous sans moi
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
il est allé
bonheur

 



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