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teen poetry

quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
les jours hypocrites
je fais ma monture, mais personne ne sait
les longs couloirs de marbre resounding
j'ai vu les archangels dans mon pomme-arbre la nuit passée
deux rangées des choux
un dieu
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
parmi les montagnes j'ai erré
améliorez que le granit
pas du monde large de totalité
homme froid sévère

 



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