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thanksgiving poem

les vieilles chansons
je suis las d'être amer et las d'être sage
à partir des prés riches avec du maïs
dites-moi moins ou dites-moi davantage
ville qui n'est pas une ville
elle a entendu les enfants jouer au soleil
vous êtes beau et fané
à partir du sud à la coupure du jour
regardez avec les yeux longing et savez que je suivrai

 



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