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kid poem

mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
la lumière retirée
j'ai fait un voeu par le passé, un seulement
vers l'arrière, tournez vers l'arrière
et pendant que nous marchions l'herbe a été faiblement remuée
très bien, vous libéraux
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
vous avez marche vue par le village

 



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