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love poem

roses et or
comme des aigles sur la haute haute
laissez-nous pitié ceux outre dont soyez meilleur que nous sont
simplement parlant
est souvent il pas aussi?
à partir des prés riches avec du maïs
les jours mélancoliques sont venus
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit
les petites prières blanches
dossier une nuit de vol

 



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