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short poem

c'est la chanson de la jeunesse
peu de parc que je traverse
à partir des prés riches avec du maïs
un avec vous
fait longtemps polir la lumière du soleil d'été
est souvent il pas aussi?
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
je vous attends
et ils marchaient toujours dessus
bruits qui tâchent de déchirer

 



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