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lost love poem

travails de la terre
bruits qui tâchent de déchirer
j'ai gagné la course
calme en tant que que deuxième été
simplement parlant
très bien, vous libéraux
en septembre
ombres à ailes balayant près
monde qui change sous ma main
gloom
peu de porte a été atteinte enfin
vous vous rappelez
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
le pré rampait

 



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