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erotic poem

la noblesse de la mort encore
les bateaux se situent dans le compartiment
seule
les jours hypocrites
ce compagnon étrange est venu sur brouiller des pieds
dans pouvez
bien que je sois peu en tant que toutes les petites choses
splendor doux
si j'avais su l'étroit une prison est amour
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée

 



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