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grandma poem

le vieil ouest, le vieux temps
l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille après feuille
elle doit retourner, elle a dit
une fois ce gazon mou
clair de lune profond et tendre
dans sa tente gardée
dites-moi
se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas
le plus triste de l'année

 



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