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life poem

qui aime la pluie
l'aube était vert pomme
gaily par les champs nous avons dansé
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir
nous nous étendons
le corps peut confiner
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
à ce qui une femme la comparera aimée
beau
dans leurs regimentals loqueteux
tristement parlant
nous qui se sont tenus

 



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