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grandmother poem

substance de la lune
simplement parlant
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
comment comme les étoiles sont ces le blanc, les visages inconnus
quand le vent fonctionne contre nous dans l'obscurité
dans sa tente gardée
c'est la chanson de la jeunesse
pourquoi si triste mon bel?
les longs couloirs de marbre resounding
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver

 



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