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death poem

je descends les chemins de jardin
je suis une femme
la pluie plus de, et l'air brillant
travails de la terre
glooms des vivre-chęnes
le soleil est vers le haut
je l'aime
dites-moi pas
ils dans le rassemblement d'obscurité et demandent
j'ai vu avec les yeux ouverts
ce qui nous fera maintenant

 



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