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teacher poem

comme des aigles sur la haute haute
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
Ă  certains les gros dieux
en tant qu'elle
dans l'obscurité et la paix de mon lit final
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
les longs couloirs de marbre resounding
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
c'est le bateau de la perle
elle doit retourner, elle a dit

 



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