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daughter poem

vous dites que vous m'aimez
je vous chante
hors de la fenĂŞtre une mer des arbres verts
il est allé
ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
doux comme lit dans la terre
descendu Ă  l'aube des collines windless
pourquoi si triste mon bel?
ceux sur le supérieur indiquent qu'elles vous connaissent, la terre -- elles sont des menteurs

 



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