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short poem

ami, dont le sourire est venu pour être
laissez-moi se déplacer lentement par la rue
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
un orage monte sur la marée
au-dessus du fleuve, sur la colline
pourquoi faites-vous toujours stand tremblant là
je me suis tenu prêt le tissu pour rideaux ouvert
dans leurs regimentals loqueteux
son visage est juste et lisse et bon

 



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