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son poem

jamais dans toute ma vie
souvent je pense Ă  la belle ville
c'est l'arsenal
substance de la lune
une petite pêche dans le verger s'est développée
à ce qui une femme la comparera aimée
il était un jeune oysterman grand
le soleil a fait un pas vers le bas de son trĂ´ne d'or

 



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