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marriage poem

n'accrochez aucune guirlande
la dame, votre coeur s'est tournée vers la poussière
la terre garde aller de vibration
l'aube était vert pomme
soyez dans moi comme modes éternels
le jour est fait
je me tiens par temps gris froid
un mille derrière
dans pouvez
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre

 



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