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poetry poem

il est vrai que vous disiez que les dieux sont plus d'utilisation à vous que des fées
je vous attends
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
indéfiniment
et ils marchaient toujours dessus
treize ans toujours
il y a mille années silencieuses
j'ai eu un rêve et je me suis réveillé avec lui

 



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