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mom poem

exister de cygne
nous avons aucune honte?
comme bougie blanche
je suis las d'ętre amer et las d'ętre sage
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
améliorez que le granit
j'ai eu une crainte dans ma vie
l'obscurité
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
comment comme les étoiles sont ces le blanc, les visages inconnus

 



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