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memorial poem

je vois tous les esprits humains
une petite pêche dans le verger s'est développée
quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles
elle boite avec stopper le pas douloureux
monde qui change sous ma main
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
bonne femme
le long d'une rive
basculé dans le berceau du profond

 



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