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religious poem

il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
je me tiens par temps gris froid
calme en tant que que deuxième été
exprimons nos passions plus basses
je ne prie pas pour la paix
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
pourquoi faites-vous toujours stand tremblant lĂ 
sous ma fenĂŞtre dans une rue de ville
il est venu me prendre par la main
monde qui change sous ma main
et avec l'oiseau de ronflement

 



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