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haiku poetry

ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
apportez-moi la chanson douce
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
les montagnes ils sont les gens silencieux
voici se trouver une dame la plus belle
dans la terre silencieuse
maintenant pour un combat vif et gai
maintenant que je me suis refroidi à vous
dépassement par les murs blottis et laids
jusqu'à sa fenêtre de chambre
le pré rampait

 



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