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short love poem

je me tiens par temps gris froid
nous qui se sont tenus
mais je ne puis pas vous lire maintenant
si je meurs, pensez seulement ceci Ă  moi
l'obscurité vole les formes de toutes les reines
les jours mélancoliques sont venus
une petite pĂȘche dans le verger s'est dĂ©veloppĂ©e
dans votre vol
elle a entendu les enfants jouer au soleil

 



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