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sad death poem

le pré rampait
polit le dernier âge, le prochain avec espoir est vu
homme froid sévčre
maintenant tandis que mes lčvres vivent
s'est levé et l'ambre était le coucher du soleil sur le fleuve
je sais ce que vous allez dire
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme

 



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