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poem for pastors

à partir des prés riches avec du maïs
je ne puis pas vous dire maintenant
et pain de breaketh pas plus
effrayé pas plus, je dis
éliminer, luttant vainly
dites-moi pas
travails de la terre
un avec vous
élever, comme vent a soufflé
les vieilles chansons
il y a trois ans d'aujourd'hui
j'ai regardé sur le ciel glorieux

 



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