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friend poem

lor de păr frumos
i merge la căile de gradina
cum ca aceste stele sunt, de culoare albă, de nedescris se confruntă cu
de foc pentru a se îmbrăca în gândit
ai văzut-o pe mersul pe jos prin sat
soarelui este de până
în septembrie
toate şi în toate fără a-mi
gri-o încă roci de mare turn de mai sus
Doar ca degetele mele de pe aceste taste
sus şi în jos se duce


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