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father poem

l'obscurité vole les formes de toutes les reines
dans la sphère
au-dessus des dessus de toit emballez les ombres des nuages
roses et or
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
pour ces bras blancs au sujet de mon cou
soyez dans moi comme modes éternels
y a il quiconque là
je vais ma manière complacently

 



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