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baby poem

short et doux, et nous sommes arrivés à la fin de lui
clair de lune profond et tendre
doux et fort
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
la nuit passée la pleine lune a étendu un tissu de blanc
et pain de breaketh pas plus
sous la lune de moisson
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant

 



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