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autumn poem

mais alas, rêves justes
c'était l'automne de l'année
ainsi tombé
au-dessus du fleuve ils montrent à moi
chère épouse
observer toute la journée la vague bleue se courber et se casser
short et doux, et nous sommes arrivés à la fin de lui
désolé et seul
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
les petites prières blanches
tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
un orage monte sur la marée

 



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