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teen poetry

treize ans toujours
j'ai vu la premire poire
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
le corps peut confiner
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
je me demande o vous vivez
ne soyez pas fch avec moi
oiseaux contre le vent d'avril
vous vous rappelez
vieux vin boire
environ port plainte au matre
soudainement, hors des manires fonces et feuillues

 



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