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teacher poem

de nos endroits cachés
êtes vous éveillé?
les cieux qu'ils étaient ashen et sobre
le jour est fait
à partir des prés riches avec du maïs
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
descendu à l'aube des collines windless
si j'étais très sûr
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
pourquoi puis, la nécessité nous voient?
bas! 'tis par nuit de gala

 



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