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type of poetry

gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
je me demande où vous vivez
avec les yeux doux et bruns
a arqué l'inondation
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
treize ans toujours
je ne puis pas vous dire maintenant
quelle chance spiteful vole des unawares
les montagnes ils sont les gens silencieux

 



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