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good bye poem

doucement pleurant
je me suis tenu
elle doit retourner, elle a dit
pourquoi puis, la nécessité nous voient?
comment comme les étoiles sont ces le blanc, les visages inconnus
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
une fois ce gazon mou
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
si perdu
une petite pêche dans le verger s'est développée

 



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