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romantic poem

le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
j'ai regardé sur le ciel glorieux
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
elle a éclaté le vin féroce
j'ai gagné la course
la nuit était noire et triste
quand un contrat est fait pour la liberté
je n'ai jamais su que la terre a eu tellement l'or
j'ai dit
si j'étais trčs sűr

 



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