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short love poem

quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
à travers He va
j'aime mon heure de vent et de lumière
qui est le coureur dans les cieux
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
il y a mille années silencieuses
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
un stylo d'acier

 



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