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sympathy poem

ils me demandent où j'ai été
à minuit
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
la nuit passée la pleine lune a étendu un tissu de blanc
oranges de plumaison nubian bleu-noires
à ce qui une femme la comparera aimée
est souvent il pas aussi?
sans aucun doute je me rappelle toujours

 



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