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quand absence de sa taille de montagne
pour vętir la pensée ardente
voyez que je me donne vous
l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille aprčs feuille
fait longtemps polir la lumičre du soleil d'été
il parle pas bien
je suis allé ŕ travers les rues
tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
avec les yeux doux et bruns

 



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