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lyric poem

ne vous affligez pas qu'elle plus de
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
substance de la lune
ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
elle pourrait l'avoir su en ressort premier
ne soyez pas fâché avec moi
je me demande où vous vivez
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé

 



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