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spanish poem

la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir
beau
il y avait de trois dans le pré par le ruisseau
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
hors du profond et de l'obscurité
course haut-soutenue
je vais ma manière complacently
il parle pas bien
élever, comme vent a soufflé

 



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