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love poem

nous cassons le verre dont le vin sacré
doucement maintenant la lumière du jour
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
améliorez que le granit
foncé-eyed
vous avez marche vue par le village
il n'y a aucune évasion par le fleuve
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien

 



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