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grandma poem

tressé et tissé
l'aube était vert pomme
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
en ce moment
fait longtemps polir la lumière du soleil d'été
je me demande où vous vivez
pharaoh, roi de la terre de l'Egypte
n'accrochez aucune guirlande
ces yeux noirs i une fois ainsi félicité
serene d'après-midi et lumineux verts

 



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