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son poem

j'ai vu la premičre poire
la pluie plus de, et l'air brillant
mais alas, ręves justes
les drowses pâles de jour sur l'occidental trempent
tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
ŕ minuit
avec ses cheveux flaying d'une maničre extravagante
nous qui se sont tenus
dans des nombres mournful

 



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