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friend poem

une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
trois jours je les ai entendus s'affliger quand je m'étends complètement
mais alas, rêves justes
sous la lune de moisson
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
allé avant nous
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
là où je trouvez-vous
le soleil est vers le haut
effrayé pas plus, je dis
un oiseau a chanté

 



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