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teenage love poem

mélancolie, bleu il était
il y avait de trois dans le pré par le ruisseau
behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
vous a fait entendent parler jamais
je vais ma manière complacently
fait longtemps polir la lumière du soleil d'été
le mystère le plus foncé et le plus étrange
il était un jeune oysterman grand
je ne brûle aucun encens

 



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