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african american poetry

je l'aime
dans le port de New York
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit
le régal royal a été fait
un oiseau a chanté
il y avait de trois dans le pré par le ruisseau
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir
dernier minuit
dossier une nuit de vol
oiseaux contre le vent d'avril

 



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