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child poem

la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi
je les ai offerts tout l'adieu
doucement pleurant
si je meurs, pensez seulement ceci à moi
étaient elle pas pour cette odeur singulière
comme lui à qui esprit dans la flamme du midi
le soleil a fait un pas vers le bas de son trône d'or
à partir des prés riches avec du maïs
dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile

 



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