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friendship poems

le soleil est vers le haut
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
il y a trois manières dont les hommes prennent
j'ai moulé le monde
quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
qui est le coureur dans les cieux
du soleil ni des étoiles
le mystère le plus foncé et le plus étrange
je suis vieux et aveugle

 



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