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sad poem

s'est levé et l'ambre était le coucher du soleil sur le fleuve
une fois ce gazon mou
très bien, vous libéraux
dans le port de New York
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
vous a fait entendent parler jamais
écoutez la mer retentissante
à travers He va
j'ai dit
laissez-moi se déplacer lentement par la rue


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