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sad poem

dernier minuit
aucune proie ne suis moi des pensées faibles
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
ont eu lui et I mais réuni
descendu à l'aube des collines windless
substance de la lune
dites-moi
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
j'ai vu la première poire

 



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