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family poetry

je me tiens par temps gris froid
bien que repine d'amour, et frottement de raison
dites-moi
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit
quelques jours plus venteux
hors de moi indigne et inconnu
je suis las d'être amer et las d'être sage
voyez, ils retournent

 



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