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sorry poem

passé persistant de thou
en ce moment
contre la flamme verte de l'aubépine-arbre
je sais pas où
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
un regard est mais un rayon
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir
et avec l'oiseau de ronflement
foncé-eyed
serene d'après-midi et lumineux verts
mais alas, rêves justes

 



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