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sad poem

short et doux, et nous sommes arrivs la fin de lui
un stylo d'acier
voici ne tomber aucune lumire
n'accrochez aucune guirlande
a arqu l'inondation
ce qui conserve
et pendant que nous marchions l'herbe a t faiblement remue
je me suis tenu
donnez-moi la faim
en matins nuage-gris
quand absence de sa taille de montagne
tranquillement, avec le reverance, dans la crainte
pourquoi

 



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