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acrostic poem

s'il
le bonbon avec la fougère et s'est levé
indéfiniment
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
oiseaux contre le vent d'avril
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
dites-moi moins ou dites-moi davantage
nous cassons le verre dont le vin sacré
ne tournez pas votre tête

 



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