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family poem

un mille derrière
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
et avec l'oiseau de ronflement
basculé dans le berceau du profond
allé avant nous
j'ai aimé une femme
quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
glooms des vivre-chênes
s'il
les montagnes ils sont les gens silencieux
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
il aurait même sa plaisanterie

 



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