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love poems

si perdu
le régal royal a été fait
ce qui nous fera maintenant
glooms des vivre-chênes
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
j'ai dit
enveloppez la terre par temps nuageux
leurs beaux cheveux
et pendant que nous marchions l'herbe a été faiblement remuée
environ porté plainte au maître
doucement pleurant
quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
voyez, de cette contrefaçon de lui

 



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