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romantic poetry

dans le port de New York
je descends les chemins de jardin
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte
souffleur de verre de temps
descendu à l'aube des collines windless
dans pouvez
simplicité
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
je ne brûle aucun encens
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave
une pensée gentiment solennelle
s'il

 



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