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poem for dad

je suis le vent qui hésite
exister de cygne
je vous chante
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
mi plaisirs et palais bien que nous puissions errer
behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
vers l'arrière, tournez vers l'arrière
vous êtes clair
ces yeux noirs i une fois ainsi félicité
dans la sphère

 



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