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christian poem

il était un jeune oysterman grand
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave
elle a éclaté le vin féroce
et ainsi elle va
j'ai regardé sur le ciel glorieux
il aurait mĂŞme sa plaisanterie
un mille derrière
les drowses pâles de jour sur l'occidental trempent
dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
comme lui Ă  qui esprit dans la flamme du midi

 



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