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bonheur
je me demande parfois s'il est vraiment vrai
la noblesse de la mort encore
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
homme froid sévère
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
par le rivage, par la mer
vous faites entendre
le vieil ouest, le vieux temps
ombres à ailes balayant près
gaily par les champs nous avons dansé

 



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