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death poem

je me suis tenu prêt le tissu pour rideaux ouvert
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
les vérités terribles ceux-ci soient
quand absence de sa taille de montagne
les cieux qu'ils étaient ashen et sobre
il y a une heure du repos paisible
le parfum est venu
à partir des prés riches avec du maïs
à minuit
je l'ai vu une fois avant

 



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