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grandmother poem

praf de stele şi ireal lumina
lor de păr frumos
I sta în frig gri vreme
a lungul banci
de stele a căzut din cer
nu aţi auzit de
de mecanic de locomotivă, care este în cer
spune-mi spune-mi mai puţin sau mai mult
sus şi în jos se duce
nu există nici o scape de râu
acesta este arsenalul


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