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friendship poem

cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
ceux-ci soient
les vérités terribles ceux-ci soient
il y a un pays complètement de vin
indéfiniment
enveloppez la terre par temps nuageux
le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus

 



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