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acrostic poem

et pendant que nous marchions l'herbe a été faiblement remuée
jusqu'à sa fenêtre de chambre
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
les vieilles chansons
dans une vieille chambre s'est doucement allumé
y a il quiconque là
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
puisque, si vous vous teniez prêt mon côté aujourd'hui


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