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mom poem

là par la fenêtre dans la vieille maison
je meurs
je suis vieux et aveugle
bas! 'tis par nuit de gala
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
les ombres des bateaux
laissez-moi se déplacer lentement par la rue
il y a un pays complètement de vin
je suis le vent qui hésite
ainsi tombé

 



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