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retirement poem

dans le port de New York
je remplis cette tasse
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
nous nous étendons
comme lui ŕ qui esprit dans la flamme du midi
il aurait męme sa plaisanterie
pourrions nous mais savoir
serene d'aprčs-midi et lumineux verts
pour venir tellement bientôt ŕ ceci a imaginé l'obscurité
éliminer, luttant vainly
vous entendez la pluie?

 



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