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teenage love poem

une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
dans ma main je me tiens
doux comme lit dans la terre
un orage monte sur la marée
indéfiniment
à partir des prés riches avec du maïs
ils ont jeté une pierre, vous ont jeté une pierre
pour pouvoir voir chaque côté de chaque question
je suis fevered
sous ma fenĂŞtre dans une rue de ville
avant le saint en bronze solennel

 



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