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father poem

le soleil est vers le haut
il est allé
vous avez marche vue par le village
je réside à la montagne de table
volonté vous miroitez sur la mer?
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave
le bonbon avec la fougère et s'est levé
très bien, vous libéraux

 



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