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family poem

elle a entendu les enfants jouer au soleil
au-dessus du fleuve, sur la colline
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte
j'ai regardé sur le ciel glorieux
qui aime la pluie
un regard est mais un rayon
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
vous êtes beau et fané
je suis allé à travers les rues
vous avez marche vue par le village
pourquoi si triste mon bel?

 



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