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love poem

j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée
donc je ne puis pas
très bien, vous libéraux
le pré rampait
ombres à ailes balayant près
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
dites-moi
une pensée gentiment solennelle
contre la flamme verte de l'aubépine-arbre
je suis fevered

 



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