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mother daughter poem

s'il
sous la barre du guerrier
n'accrochez aucune guirlande
parmi les montagnes j'ai erré
travails de la terre
passé persistant de thou
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
nous nous étendons
calme en tant que que deuxième été
nos moments plaisants volent
nous avons aucune honte?
vous êtes mon compagnon
j'ai vu avec les yeux ouverts

 



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