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teenage love poem

travails de la terre
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir
dans sa tente gardée
l'obscurité
j'au-dessus-avais préparé l'événement
la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi
parmi les montagnes j'ai erré
elle a dit
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
la nuit passée la pleine lune a étendu un tissu de blanc
s'il

 



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