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sad death poem

beau
le ciel
il y avait un temps en anciennes années
dans le port de New York
je me demande où vous vivez
mi plaisirs et palais bien que nous puissions errer
hors de la mer de scintillement
les jours mélancoliques sont venus
elle a un espace libre, loveliness vent-abrité
laissez-moi se déplacer lentement par la rue
pourquoi puis, la nécessité nous voient?
avec le coucher du soleil
course haut-soutenue
une fois ce gazon mou

 



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