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funeral poem

de la chanson et du rêve pour jamais allé
vieux vin à boire
là où je trouvez-vous
les nuances de la nuit tombaient rapidement
pourquoi si triste mon bel?
ce compagnon étrange est venu sur brouiller des pieds
il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
tressé et tissé
les voûtes du pont rouge
qui est le coureur dans les cieux
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
doux et fort
laissez-moi se déplacer lentement par la rue

 



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