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grandmother poem

ainsi tombé
frère, je suis le feu
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
ce qui était lui les moteurs dits
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
souvent je pense Ă  la belle ville
bruits qui tâchent de déchirer
Ă  l'aube, il a dit
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
qui est le coureur dans les cieux
soyez dans moi comme modes éternels

 



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