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anniversary poetry

son visage est juste et lisse et bon
les montagnes ils sont les gens silencieux
avec le coucher du soleil
c'était l'automne de l'année
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
elle a éclaté le vin féroce
il est vrai que vous disiez que les dieux sont plus d'utilisation à vous que des fées
je remplis cette tasse

 



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