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short funny poem

et pendant que nous marchions l'herbe a été faiblement remuée
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
les bateaux se situent dans le compartiment
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
observer toute la journée la vague bleue se courber et se casser
fait longtemps polir la lumière du soleil d'été
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main

 



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