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thanksgiving poetry

s'il
mais je ne puis pas vous lire maintenant
démontré dans la lueur vacillante dans vos yeux
basculé dans le berceau du profond
soyez patient, la vie, quand l'amour est à la porte
ont eu lui et I mais réuni
je l'ai vu une fois avant
le soleil est vers le haut
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
nous n'étions pas beaucoup
les voûtes du pont rouge

 



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