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sad love poem

il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
levé des morts
quand absence de sa taille de montagne
je ne brûle aucun encens
le poing serré simple soulevé et préparent
vous êtes beau et fané
il est venu me prendre par la main
une vie sur la vague d'océan
le bonbon avec la fougère et s'est levé

 



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