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short love poem

le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles
la nuit était noire et triste
vous dites que vous m'aimez
oranges de plumaison nubian bleu-noires
vous faites entendre
elle doit retourner, elle a dit
pour vêtir la pensée ardente
s'il
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
nous qui se sont tenus
pourquoi puis, la nécessité nous voient?
par le rivage, par la mer
à minuit

 



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