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death poem

frère, je suis le feu
il est venu me prendre par la main
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
qui aime la pluie
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
le vieil ouest, le vieux temps
une histoire très remarquable ceci est
une pensée gentiment solennelle
dites-moi pas

 



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