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grandmother poem

il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
en septembre
plantons
calme en tant que que deuxième été
je me tiens par temps gris froid
contre la flamme verte de l'aubépine-arbre
dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
doux et fort
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
regardez dehors sur les étoiles, mon amour
splendor doux

 



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