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baby poem

doux et fort
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
j'ai jeté mon âme à l'air comme un vol de faucon
avec ses cheveux flaying d'une manière extravagante
vous faites ne pas entendre
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
deux rangées des choux
nous nous étendons
fait longtemps polir la lumière du soleil d'été

 



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