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grandmother poem

dans le port de New York
truely
élever, comme vent a soufflé
aucune proie ne suis moi des pensées faibles
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
vous êtes beau et fané
pourquoi faites-vous toujours stand tremblant là
dans les halls du sommeil vous avez erré près
le parfum est venu
aimez-moi enfin, ou si vous pas

 



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