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retirement poem

le corps peut confiner
ma mčre me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
son visage est juste et lisse et bon
voyez l'expérimental
les cieux qu'ils étaient ashen et sobre
la lune se levante a caché les étoiles
ce qui je vous doivent
au-dessus du fleuve, sur la colline
il y a trois ans d'aujourd'hui

 



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