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haiku poem

les drowses pâles de jour sur l'occidental trempent
et ils marchaient toujours dessus
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
roses et or
il est allé
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
je n'ai jamais su que la terre a eu tellement l'or
ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
dans sa tente gardée
une fois ce gazon mou
un stylo d'acier

 



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