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black poetry

dites-moi moins ou dites-moi davantage
il y avait de trois dans le pré par le ruisseau
sous ma fenêtre dans une rue de ville
dans la sphère
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
une brume entraînait une réduction
le poing serré simple soulevé et préparent
vous entendez la pluie?
les jours mélancoliques sont venus
je ne prie pas pour la paix
elle était une beauté en jours

 



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