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concrete poetry

souvent je pense à la belle ville
un dieu
il y avait de trois dans le pré par le ruisseau
je vous chante
j'au-dessus-avais préparé l'événement
les vieilles chansons
dites-moi pas
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
laissez-moi être triste
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
le jour est fait
les cieux qu'ils étaient ashen et sobre
les petites prières blanches

 



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