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friend poetry

il était un jeune oysterman grand
short et doux, et nous sommes arrivés à la fin de lui
comme lui à qui esprit dans la flamme du midi
à travers He va
certains des maux que vous avez traités
orage
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
les jours mélancoliques sont venus
elle pourrait l'avoir su en ressort premier
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
doucement pleurant

 



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