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sad love poem

un dieu
bonne femme
les cieux qu'ils étaient ashen et sobre
hauts murs et énorme
en septembre
ceux-ci soient
la pluie plus de, et l'air brillant
se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas
je n'ai jamais su que la terre a eu tellement l'or
sans aucun doute je me rappelle toujours
dans le port de New York
dans ma main je me tiens
une pensée gentiment solennelle
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir

 



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