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lyric poetry

fleurs des bébés
au-dessus du fleuve ils montrent à moi
soudainement, hors des manières foncées et feuillues
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
mi plaisirs et palais bien que nous puissions errer
ceux-ci soient
treize ans toujours


 



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