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teen poem

sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
quelques jours plus venteux
si j'étais très sûr
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
leurs beaux cheveux
avec ses cheveux flaying d'une manière extravagante
à travers He va
il n'y a aucune évasion par le fleuve
j'aime mon heure de vent et de lumière
c'est l'arsenal
désolé et seul

 



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