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short love poem

tous ces trésors qui se trouvent
dans la sphère
je me tiens par temps gris froid
dans le port de New York
jamais dans toute ma vie
la étoile-poussière et lumière vaporeuse
je suis vieux et aveugle
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
tristement parlant
comme bougie blanche
donnez-moi
une vie sur la vague d'océan

 



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