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urdu poetry

chantez-encore à la chanson vous chanté
sous la lune de moisson
comme je me trouve couvert dedans, examiné dedans
j'ai vu les archangels dans mon pomme-arbre la nuit passée
je ne brûle aucun encens
j'ai vu la première poire
j'ai regardé sur le ciel glorieux
la nuit était noire et triste
treize ans toujours
bien que repine d'amour, et frottement de raison

 



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