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sad poem

la agonie d'avoir trop de puissance
en matins nuage-gris
ŕ partir des prés riches avec du maďs
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
dans leurs regimentals loqueteux
son visage est juste et lisse et bon
maintenant tandis que mes lčvres vivent
j'ai entendu qu'une certaine princesse
si perdu
les montagnes ils sont les gens silencieux

 



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