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child poem

je remplis cette tasse
du soleil ni des étoiles
avec la joie et la merveille
je me suis tenu pręt le tissu pour rideaux ouvert
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
doux et fort
roses et or
bas! 'tis par nuit de gala
les počts le disent
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
basculé dans le berceau du profond
le ciel

 



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