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thanksgiving poetry

voici ne tomber aucune lumière
les jours mélancoliques sont venus
quand je suis retourné au coucher du soleil
oranges de plumaison nubian bleu-noires
nos moments plaisants volent
pourquoi
pharaoh, roi de la terre de l'Egypte
vous avez marche vue par le village
avec les yeux doux et bruns
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles
allé avant nous
j'ai vu la première poire
si perdu

 



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