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death poem

j'ai vu avec les yeux ouverts
vous a fait entendent parler jamais
améliorez que le granit
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
avec la joie et la merveille
il parle pas bien
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
pour ces bras blancs au sujet de mon cou
je verrai une étoile ce soir
je vous chante
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin

 



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