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haiku poem

et pendant que nous marchions l'herbe a été faiblement remuée
mélancolie, bleu il était
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte
il y a d'un que ce I par le passé a aimé tellement
tous en dedans et tous sans moi
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
quand, plein de l'amour chaud et désireux

 



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