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prose poetry

simplicité
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
la noblesse de la mort encore
dans leurs regimentals loqueteux
quand j'étais a enfoncé ŕ Londres
homme froid sévčre
c'est l'arsenal
hors de la mer de scintillement
pourquoi faites-vous toujours stand tremblant lŕ
je me suis tenu
le soleil et vent et battement de mer

 



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