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sad poem

l'air est comme un papillon
le mystère le plus foncé et le plus étrange
le poing serré simple soulevé et préparent
ce que je souhaite remarquer
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
faible-envolée est la chanson
oiseaux contre le vent d'avril
en dessous de cette tombe modeste un conqueror se trouve

 



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