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dark poetry

un mille derrière
un orage monte sur la marée
laissez-nous pitié ceux outre dont soyez meilleur que nous sont
comme égaliser tombe
tous en dedans et tous sans moi
je vous chante
environ porté plainte au maître
la lumière retirée
les longs couloirs de marbre resounding
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
bien que je sois peu en tant que toutes les petites choses

 



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