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friendship poem

ville qui n'est pas une ville
je me demande oů vous vivez
j'aime les vieilles configurations melodious
au-dessus du fleuve, sur la colline
levé des morts
prčs d'un champ en détresse
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
passé persistant de thou
se reposer dans son culbuteur attendant votre thé
il y avait de trois dans le pré par le ruisseau

 



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