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teacher poem

mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
ce que je souhaite remarquer
là par la fenêtre dans la vieille maison
maintenant pour un combat vif et gai
vous êtes beau et fané
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
enveloppez la terre par temps nuageux
améliorez que le granit
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort

 



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