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romantic love poem

il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
doux et fort
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit
quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
certains des maux que vous avez traités
elle pourrait l'avoir su en ressort premier
je les ai offerts tout l'adieu
mi plaisirs et palais bien que nous puissions errer
seule
au-dessus du fleuve, sur la colline

 



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