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def poetry jam

la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
splendide et terrible votre amour
foncé-eyed
à ce qui une femme la comparera aimée
y a il quiconque là
remuez
polit le dernier âge, le prochain avec espoir est vu
la noblesse de la mort encore
est souvent il pas aussi?
je n'ai jamais su que la terre a eu tellement l'or
vous avez marche vue par le village

 



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