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mother poem

laissez-moi être triste
polit le dernier âge, le prochain avec espoir est vu
stand ici par mon côté
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
une vie sur la vague d'océan
ce qui était lui les moteurs dits
clair de lune profond et tendre
à partir des prés riches avec du maïs

 



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