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sad poetry

elle était une beauté en jours
doux comme lit dans la terre
pourquoi si triste mon bel?
il y a trois maničres dont les hommes prennent
élever, comme vent a soufflé
le soleil et vent et battement de mer
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
avec le rouge de sang de lčvres et le coeur de la pierre
et avec l'oiseau de ronflement
regarder lŕ-bas

 



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