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sad love poem

je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte
les montagnes ils sont les gens silencieux
certains des maux que vous avez traités
quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
le soleil et vent et battement de mer
un regard est mais un rayon
le poing serré simple soulevé et préparent
nos moments plaisants volent
vous faites entendre

 



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