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christmas poetry

l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
doucement maintenant la lumičre du jour
quelle chance spiteful vole des unawares
quand je vais de nouveau ŕ la terre
le pré rampait
dans l'obscurité et la paix de mon lit final
les longs couloirs de marbre resounding
dans des nombres mournful
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
je dois dire bonne nuit

 



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