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fall poem

l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
je verrai une étoile ce soir
quand les heures du jour sont numérotées
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
très bien, vous libéraux
j'étais une déesse avant que le marbre m'ait trouvé
j'aime mon heure de vent et de lumière
laissez-moi être triste
le jour est fait

 



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