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funny poetry

je ne brûle aucun encens
a arqué l'inondation
monde qui change sous ma main
soudainement, hors des manières foncées et feuillues
ombres étendues le long de broadway
sous la lune de moisson
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
hors du profond et de l'obscurité
mélancolie, bleu il était

 



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