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romantic poem

les jours endeared à chaque MUSE
il était un jeune oysterman grand
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
j'aime voler pendant quelque temps loin
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
pourquoi
gaily par les champs nous avons dansé
ville qui n'est pas une ville
et ils marchaient toujours dessus
un orage monte sur la marée
il est allé
les cieux qu'ils étaient ashen et sobre

 



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