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mother daughter poem

n'accrochez aucune guirlande
je sais pas où
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
à ce qui une femme la comparera aimée
à minuit
jusqu'à sa fenêtre de chambre
une pensée gentiment solennelle
les vieilles chansons
travails de la terre
je suis allé à travers les rues
certains des maux que vous avez traités
étaient elle pas pour cette odeur singulière

 



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