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short friendship poem

je suis fevered
son visage est juste et lisse et bon
l'air est comme un papillon
elle était une beauté en jours
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
fleurs des bébés
ville qui n'est pas une ville
donnez-moi
doucement pleurant
je ne prie pas pour la paix
sous la lune de moisson
environ porté plainte au maître

 



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