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friend poem

s'il
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
au-dessus du fleuve, sur la colline
elle était beaucoup et beaucoup d'il y a une année
bas! 'tis par nuit de gala
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
musing, entre le coucher du soleil et l'obscurité
je vois tous les esprits humains
course haut-soutenue
je sais pas où
le ciel
et pendant que nous marchions l'herbe a été faiblement remuée
je suis vieux et aveugle

 



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