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broken heart poem

je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
si je meurs, pensez seulement ceci Ă  moi
son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
voyez, de cette contrefaçon de lui
ce que je souhaite remarquer
gaily par les champs nous avons dansé
les chansons antiques
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
Ă  l'aube, il a dit
ne restez pas plus

 



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