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halloween poem

au-dessus des dessus de toit emballez les ombres des nuages
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
quand je suis retourné au coucher du soleil
dans votre vol
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
je sais ce que vous allez dire
quand les heures du jour sont numérotées

 



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