; Arthur Rimbaud
telling you it is about the poet, who ran into the jungle to learn to write poetry
poet, still in his teens his age, the age of passion in words said
kilometers away she ran to penetrate the forest, only to want to write a word, passionatelove
He collects words from cuts, thorn thorns pierced his body, he kept running, penetratingfog in the morning and evening, the dark forest
one word two words three words a thousand words, one million were collected in the book on his head. said word wassail
you know, the poet is finally gone, the forest said said, as he said: The only game for children, teens
they no longer care about words. no matter his name revered revered, poet discovererssaid. he traveled, a slaver only
Never go to war, carry guns, carry bayonet stiletto. and death. so
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