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autumn poem

le soleil est vers le haut
tous en baisse les années
le long des banques
a arqué l'inondation
ce qui nous fera maintenant
regarder là-bas
je descends les chemins de jardin
prenez mes bracelets
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
je sais ce que vous allez dire
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort


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