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romantic poem

il aurait même sa plaisanterie
je fais ma monture, mais personne ne sait
éliminer, luttant vainly
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
glooms des vivre-chênes
ne soyez pas fâché avec moi
un stylo d'acier
je meurs
j'aime les vieilles configurations melodious
comme bougie blanche
dépassement par les murs blottis et laids
quand absence de sa taille de montagne
quand un contrat est fait pour la liberté
les jours hypocrites

 



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