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type of poem

il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
elle connaît un dégagement bon marché
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
ainsi tombé
il y avait un strangeness sur vos lèvres
j'aime ma vie, mais pas trop bien
behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
vous dites que vous m'aimez

 



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