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poetry poem

j'ai moulé le monde
doucement pleurant
bien que repine d'amour, et frottement de raison
dans sa tente gardée
comment j'aidez vers la droite le monde qui tourne mal
pour ces bras blancs au sujet de mon cou
tout mon amour pour mon bonbon
il y avait de trois dans le pré par le ruisseau
le mouvement de votre corps est comme la musique
je réside à la montagne de table

 



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