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gothic poetry

mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
par le rivage, par la mer
élever, comme vent a soufflé
une petite pêche dans le verger s'est développée
pharaoh, roi de la terre de l'Egypte
hauts murs et énorme
vous entendez la pluie?
un mot de vol d'ici et là
observer toute la journée la vague bleue se courber et se casser

 



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