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happy birthday poem

sommeil, frère gris de la mort
dans une vieille chambre s'est doucement allumé
dites-moi
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
j'ai regardé sur le ciel glorieux
ils ont jeté une pierre, vous ont jeté une pierre
quand j'ai regardé dans vos yeux
il n'y a aucune bande, toutefois observé et tendu

 



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