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funny poem

j'étais une déesse avant que le marbre m'ait trouvé
robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler
soyez patient, la vie, quand l'amour est à la porte
dans leurs regimentals loqueteux
la pluie plus de, et l'air brillant
je ne brûle aucun encens
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
comme lui à qui esprit dans la flamme du midi
pourquoi si triste mon bel?

 



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