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african american poetry

il est venu me prendre par la main
les cieux qu'ils étaient ashen et sobre
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
bien que repine d'amour, et frottement de raison
ils ont jeté une pierre, vous ont jeté une pierre
babylon -- oů je vais ręver
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
ŕ minuit
il parle pas bien

 



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