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fall poetry

mais je ne puis pas vous lire maintenant
un, comme part d'un arbre
chantez-encore ŕ la chanson vous chanté
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
filles de temps
gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
tous en dedans et tous sans moi
je l'ai vu une fois avant
avec la joie et la merveille


 



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