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wedding poem

laissez-moi être triste
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
quelques jours plus venteux
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
bas! 'tis par nuit de gala
j'aime voler pendant quelque temps loin
cette année
doux comme lit dans la terre
nous cassons le verre dont le vin sacré
tranquillement, avec le reverance, dans la crainte
substance de la lune
il y a un pays complètement de vin

 



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