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teen poetry contest

à travers He va
un orage monte sur la marée
il y a une heure du repos paisible
beaux, tragical visages
je vais ma manière complacently
êtes vous éveillé?
nous avons aucune honte?
pharaoh, roi de la terre de l'Egypte
quand j'ai regardé dans vos yeux
tous en baisse les années
serene d'après-midi et lumineux verts
si je meurs, pensez seulement ceci à moi
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté

 



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