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son poem

ils ont jeté une pierre, vous ont jeté une pierre
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
dans l'obscurité et la paix de mon lit final
elle était une beauté en jours
je fais ma monture, mais personne ne sait
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
en dessous de cette tombe modeste un conqueror se trouve

 



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