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death poem

je suis vieux et aveugle
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
vous a fait voient jamais un alligator
ces yeux noirs i une fois ainsi félicité
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir
babylon -- où je vais rêver
dans la terre silencieuse
je dois dire bonne nuit
doucement maintenant la lumière du jour
je fais ma monture, mais personne ne sait

 



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