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short poem

il est vrai que vous disiez que les dieux sont plus d'utilisation à vous que des fées
je ne prie pas pour la paix
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit
soudainement, hors des manières foncées et feuillues
beau
affligez-vous pas pour l'invisible
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille après feuille

 



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