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sad death poem

les vérités terribles ceux-ci soient
pour vêtir la pensée ardente
j'ai vu la première poire
je suis dans l'amour avec les endroits prévoyants élevés
je suis vieux et aveugle
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
nos moments plaisants volent
j'aime mon heure de vent et de lumière

 



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