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suicide poem

elle doit retourner, elle a dit
gaily par les champs nous avons dansé
son visage est juste et lisse et bon
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
le soleil et vent et battement de mer
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
et pendant que nous marchions l'herbe a été faiblement remuée
le ciel
j'aime les vieilles configurations melodious

 



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