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acrostic poem

ne vous affligez pas qu'elle plus de
s'il
l'aube était vert pomme
le long d'une rive
vieux vin Ă  boire
le vieil ouest, le vieux temps
désolé et seul
voyez, de cette contrefaçon de lui
splendor doux
aucune proie ne suis moi des pensées faibles
comment comme les étoiles sont ces le blanc, les visages inconnus

 



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