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mom poem

et pain de breaketh pas plus
ne restez pas plus
vous êtes mon compagnon
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
le corps peut confiner
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
c'est la chanson de la jeunesse
et pendant que nous marchions l'herbe a été faiblement remuée
remuez
les montagnes ils sont les gens silencieux
si j'étais très sûr

 



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