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grandma poem

le pré rampait
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
hors de la fenętre une mer des arbres verts
j'aime ma vie, mais pas trop bien
tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
un stylo d'acier
donc je ne puis pas
laissez le bel unsaid de mots
un oiseau a chanté

 



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