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death poem

allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
pour vêtir la pensée ardente
il était un jeune oysterman grand
certains des maux que vous avez traités
si j'avais su l'étroit une prison est amour
je sais pas où
quand vous venez ce soir
je n'ai jamais su que la terre a eu tellement l'or
j'ai vu les archangels dans mon pomme-arbre la nuit passée
avant le saint en bronze solennel
roses et or
truely

 



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