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mother daughter poem

l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille après feuille
je vois tous les esprits humains
n'accrochez aucune guirlande
mais alas, rêves justes
indéfiniment
fleurs des bébés
au-dessus du fleuve, sur la colline
regarder là-bas
voici ne tomber aucune lumière
voyez, de cette contrefaçon de lui
pourquoi si triste mon bel?

 



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