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christian poem

behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
étaient elle pas pour cette odeur singulière
n'accrochez aucune guirlande
clair de lune profond et tendre
ombres étendues le long de broadway
fleurs des bébés
robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler
descendu à l'aube des collines windless
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
la nuit était noire et triste


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