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kid poem

son visage est juste et lisse et bon
je sais ce que vous allez dire
il y a une heure du repos paisible
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
êtes vous éveillé?
son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
monde qui change sous ma main
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
vous entendez la pluie?

 



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