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math poem

et ainsi elle va
quelle chance spiteful vole des unawares
pourquoi puis, la nécessité nous voient?
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
la nuit passée la pleine lune a étendu un tissu de blanc
qui est le coureur dans les cieux
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
passé persistant de thou

 



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