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poem for dad

mélancolie, bleu il était
pour ces bras blancs au sujet de mon cou
avec ses cheveux flaying d'une manière extravagante
il y a un pays complètement de vin
seule
substance de la lune
fleurs des bébés
hors de la mer de scintillement
je me demande où vous vivez
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
peu de porte a été atteinte enfin

 



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