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father poem

la pluie plus de, et l'air brillant
je suis une femme
chère épouse
ce qui conserve
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
gloom
un oiseau a chanté
fait longtemps polir la lumière du soleil d'été
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
pensées par ma tête
levé des morts

 



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