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christmas poem

nous avons aucune honte?
deux rangées des choux
gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
short et doux, et nous sommes arrivés à la fin de lui
descendu à l'aube des collines windless
désolé et seul
et mon nom est véridique
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
gloom
exister de cygne
seule
et pain de breaketh pas plus
mi plaisirs et palais bien que nous puissions errer

 



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