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friendship poetry

tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
à partir des prés riches avec du maïs
soudainement, hors des manières foncées et feuillues
ne vous affligez pas qu'elle plus de
à l'amoureux passionné
soyez patient, la vie, quand l'amour est Ă  la porte

 



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